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MARK EVERARD 


( 


MARK 
E V E R A R D 


a loraatue 


By KNOX MAGEE 

* 1 \ 

AUTHOR OF “WITH RING OF SHIELD" 




R. F. FENNO &? COMPANY 
9 and n East Sixteenth Street, New York 

1901 







THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two CoHtwi Received 

OCT. 31 1901 

COPVRIGHT ENTRY 

Clltjy /- iqof 

CLAS^j^XXc. No. 

/ L^t 07^ 

COPY 3. 


Copyright, 1901 

BY 

R. F. Fenno & Company 


% 

f ‘ ‘ I 1 1 1 < <<C« »C|< 

t < c ‘ . < c c c 


01 ' 


Mark Everard 


MARK EVERARD 


CHAPTER I. 

Come lasses and lads, get leave of your dads, , 

And away to the May-pole hie, 

For ev’ry fair has a sweetheart there, 

And the fiddler’s standing by, 

For Willy will dance with Jane 
And Johnny has got his Joan, 

To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it, 

Trip it up and down ; 

To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it, 

Trip it up and down.” 

Laughter, cheers and shouts came from the crowded 
court-yard, then couple after couple bounced into the 
ordinary, and took hasty possession of all tables 
and chairs they found vacant. 

I was taking no part in thegayety, but was seated 
alone, except for Toby, on whom I have always 
looked as a kind of material shadow, whose presence 
is understood when I speak of myself, at a small 
table in a shadowy corner, that I might partake of 
my wine in peace, and at the same time enjoy the 
diversion of beholding London’s highest and more 
common citizens sport and caper like so many 

3 


4 


Mark Everard 


* 


buffoons at a fair. But besides the mere enjoyment 
of gazing undisturbed upon this foolish spectacle I 
had another and better reason for being seated where 
I was. I wore no masque, as did all those whose 
names were known sufficiently to cause comment, or 
those without a name, who wore them that they 
might be mistaken for their betters. For this I had 
a reason : my lack of disguise was to serve in making 
me easily watched by them that required my assist- 
ance. 

The room soon became filled with those that had 
just finished their dance for the time, and had given 
place to another set of light-heads, who now took 
up the song where the breath of their predecessors 
had failed : 

“ ‘ You’re out,’ says Dick, ‘ Not I,’ says Nick, 

‘ ’Twas the fiddler play’d it wrong,’ 

‘ ’Tis true,’ says Hugh, and so says Sue, 

And so says ev’ry one ; 

The fiddler then began 
To play the tune again , 

And ev’ry girl did trip it, trip it, 

Trip it to the men, 

And ev’ry girl did trip it, trip it, 

Trip it to the men.” 

While this part of the song was going on I saw 
the Red Masque making his way through the crowd, 
at the same time craning his neck and peering in all 
directions. I knew for whom he searched, so I 
arose and stood facing him until I was sure he had 
caught my eye, when I reseated myself and, while 

4 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


waiting his approach, Toby and I split that that 
remained in the bottle between us. 

“ That’s rare good stuff for a colic,” said Toby, 
with a shake of his head and a great smack of the 
lips. 

“ And have you the complaint, Toby ? ” I asked, 
with a smile. 

“ Nay, not yet, Sir ; but I like mightily to be pre- 
pared for an emergency ; so I’m glad to have tucked 
that elixir under my belt this night, for I have a 
notion that I shall be exposed to the contagion ere 
morning.” 

“ Hush ! ” I said, “ not so loud ; our merry Masque 
approaches.” 

“ His hand seems more used to silken belts then 
sword-hilts,” Toby whispered, as he watched the 
young gentleman making his way through the crowd, 
now stooping to kiss a laughing female’s hand with 
a great show of gallantry and easy grace, again 
chucking another under the chin with careless 
familiarity, and lastly, as at length he reached the 
open space by our table, he stooped and kissed a 
little, hooded lass fairly upon her rosy lips. The 
maid, or whatever she was, (for in those days maidens 
were scarce, yet spinsters abundant) took the liberty 
with more than good grace, for as our Red Masque 
was turning from her with a smile and a kiss of 
his fingers, I heard her whisper through laughing 
lips : 

“ How sweet, my Lord Duke ! ’Tis three long 

5 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 

days since you kissed me last at Whitehall.” She 
curled her pretty lip until it touched her masque, as 
much as to say : “ Ah ! I know you, Sir, but you 
know me not,” and ran laughing from him and van- 
ished in the crowd. 

The Red Masque started in surprise. He seemed 
to like it not that he was known, for he stood staring 
after the nimble lass, biting his lip the while. Then 
he shook his head and turned to me. He seemed ex- 
cited and ill at ease, for he glanced to right and 
left suspiciously, then put a trembling hand upon 
my shoulder. 

“We may not talk here,” he said hurriedly. 
“ Let us withdraw to a private chamber, for that that 
I have to say must not be heard by those that 
should not hear. I seem to have been recognized 
already.” 

“ Unoccupied rooms are scarce to-night, I should 
think, Sir.” 

“ I have thought of that, Master Everard. If you 
will follow me, I shall conduct you to a place of pri- 
vacy.” 

As Toby started with us, the young gentleman 
turned and asked in a whisper who my companion 
was. 

u My servant,” I answered. “ Possibly more 
useful than his master, if the work require a supple 
wrist.” 

This seemed to satisfy the stranger, for he smiled 
and nodded, and then, turning, made his way 

6 


* 


Mark Everard 




through the noisy crowd, while we followed at a 
little distance, that we might not attract too much 
attention, as the business seemed like to be of great 
importance. 

Slowly we worked our way across the room to 
the stairs, up which our leader went. But Toby 
and I halted on the first step until he had disappeared 
round the turning. Here I looked back across the 
room, and as I did so my eye caught three men 
watching us from near the table where we had been 
sitting. Two were tall, plainly attired and wore 
plain black masques. The third was of about 
middle height, stout, more gaily dressed, and wore a 
masque half black, half white. What attracted my 
attention was not any peculiarity of appearance, 
which, from my description, you can see was in no 
way peculiar, except for the masque of the least tall 
of the three, but as my eye reached them one of the 
tall gentlemen touched the Black-and-white Masque 
on the shoulder, and then the three looked quickly 
in our direction. But when they saw that I was 
watching them they turned away carelessly, as 
though their gaze had been but casual. Toby and 
I started up the stairs, but as we came to the turning 
I took another look back, and as I did so beheld the 
three Masques again watching us closely. 

Our Bed Masque was awaiting us at the top, and 
so soon as we joined him he led us to the door of a 
room just across the passage from the landing. At 
this he gave three gentle taps, paused for a second, 

7 


4 


Mark Everard 


4 * 

I then added two more. The signal evidently was ex- 
pected, for the door opened instantly and we were 
admitted to the chamber, which was without light 
until the door was again closed and locked, when a 
light was struck and we were able to take in our sur- 
roundings. 

The room was of a good size, well furnished, and 
had another door and a window in the opposite wall 
to the door by which we had entered. The window, 
however, was closed and the shutters were up, and 
I heard this second door shut ere the candles were 
lighted. 

“ Great secrecy for an honest game,” I thought, 
as I turned from my survey of the apartment to the 
gentleman of the red masque, that I might have an 
understanding of that for which he so earnestly de- 
sired my assistance. Of the other gentleman — the 
one by whom we had been admitted — I took no 
more notice than to observe that he was a tall and 
well-made man, who wore the ordinary masque of 
black, until our conductor introduced me. 

“ Henry,” said he to his associate, “ this is the gen- 
tleman of whom we have so much need — Master 
Everard, by name.” Then, turning to me : “I trust, 
Sir, you will not take it as an offence that my friend 
prefers to have his name unspoken, though I assure 
you it is far from unknown.” 

“ Doubtless, gentlemen,” I replied, “ you are both 
privileged to keep your names to yourselves ; I have 
not asked for them ; but until I know with whom I 

8 


Mark Everard 


* 


4 


have the honour to speak, you must excuse me for 
declining to engage in a conversation more serious 
than is customary in such an assembly.” 

“ By Gad, Sir, you’re exacting ! ” said he of the 
red masque. “ Is it not sufficient when I tell you 
’tis in the service of the King that we would have 
your assistance ? ” 

“ Had I not been informed that the work was a 
service to the King I had not so far disturbed my- 
self as to be with you now. So far I have moved 
without question, but no further may I go. The 
King has many and various services performed for 
him ; I beg leave to discriminate as to what kind I 
take part in.” 

“ Oh ! I see, Sir ; your loyalty is of the qualified 
variety,” the Red Masque sneered. 

“ Ay, Sir,” I replied drily ; “ with honour.” 

“ ’Slife ! Master Everard, are you so sentimental, 
then?” he laughed. “Well, then,” he added seri- 
ously, “ I assure you the matter in hand is one of 
honour, in fact ’tis the King’s honour that we would 
save. ’Sblood! Sir, there are many gentlemen 
of my acquaintance would give their lives for such 
an opportunity.” 

“ Honour, Sir, is so variously defined, nowadays, 
that I prefer to use my own interpretation in all 
things that concern me. You say many gentlemen 
of your acquaintance would feel honoured by the 
office ; think you not then that they were better 
fitted for the service than a stranger? Gentlemen, 

9 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


I regret that you have mistaken your man, and that 
I have inconvenienced myself for naught. I bid 
you good-evening. U nder the circumstances I cannot 
assist you.” I bowed and turned toward the door, 
forgetting that it was locked until I saw Toby try 
it. I turned again to the Masques. They were 
engaged in a low-toned conversation. 

“ Yes, yes, tell him ; it can make but little differ- 
ence,” said he that had hitherto remained silent. 
Something more he added, but I could not catch 
what he said, the words being drowned by the noise 
of the merry-makers in the court-yard directly 
beneath the window of the room in which we 
were. 

“ Gentlemen,” I said, as I saw the other still 
hesitate, “ doubtless you mean me no insult, yet I 
am one that takes such treatment as this with but a 
poor grace. I demand either your confidence or 
my liberty.” 

Little Toby gave his shoulders a shake, (which 
movement always has reminded me of the splutter 
of a sparrow after a dip in a puddle, and always is a 
signal that he is prepared for trouble) and kept his 
eyes on me, waiting his cue. 

“ Damn my fingers, Master Everard! but your 
temper is as short as your sword is long,” cried the 
Red Masque, with a laugh. “ No, no, on my honour 
no offence was meant ; ’twas but over-caution on my 
part. You shall know all.” He undid his masque 
and let me see his features. 

io 


Mark Everard 


* 


u Your Grace ! ” I cried in feigned surprise, 
though all the time I had had my suspicions that it 
was Monmouth himself. 

“ Sh ! Master Everard, name me not in this place,” 
he said in a low tone. Then he came closer and 
whispered : “ Make no mention of name nor title 
when this gentleman removes his masque,” and he 
nodded in the direction of his companion, who now 
undid his visard. 

I raised my hat and, bending till its feathers 
swept the floor, saluted him in silence. It was the 
King. He made a slight bow and smiled a little as 
he asked me if I now was satisfied. 

“ Perfectly, so far as the persons with whom I 
deal are concerned.” 

“ And are you prepared to serve me in what may 
be a dangerous matter ? ” 

I drew myself up with a little flush. “ Most 
matters in which I take a part are commonly called 
dangerous, Sir,” I answered quietly. 

“ Damnation take me if ever I have seen such a 
fire-brand ! ” the Little Duke cried out, after staring 
at me in surprise for a moment. Then he burst into 
laughter. “ Zounds ! ’tis as dangerous to be thy 
friends as ’tis to be thy foes.” 

“ Hush, James ! not so loud,” said the King. “Do 
you hear aught amiss, my man ?” he asked quickly, 
but in a low voice, and we all turned to see Toby 
with his ear to the key-hole of the door leading into 
the passage. As we looked he quickly placed his 

II 


Mark Everard 


* 


fT 


lips to the hole and gave vent to a strong puff. 
Instantly there was a startled sound directly out- 
side, then hasty footsteps creaked without. 

Monmouth laughed ; but the King handed me the 
key and I hastily unlocked the door and stepped 
forth. But the eavesdropper had profited by the 
delay in making good his escape, for the passage 
was empty and nothing was to be heard but the 
noise of the merry-makers below. So I returned to 
the room and relocked the door. I found Monmouth 
half-choking with a fit of laughter, and the King 
himself was smiling broadly. 

“ ’Sblood ! ” cried the Duke, the moment the door 
was closed, “ ’twas as good as a play to see that 
fellow give Master Spy a start. I’ll warrant me he 
could not have been startled more had you fired a 
pistol into his ear. ’Sdeath ! I can almost see the 
expression on his face.” And he gave way freely 
to his laughter. 

Toby seemed not in the least confused by this 
attention from royalty ; on the contrary, he took it 
with an indifference that one would think came 
from a life-long acquaintance with kings. He stood 
with his hat tucked under one arm, while with the 
other he leaned upon the back of a chair and smiled 
back at the King’s son with an ease of manner 
laughable to behold. I think it was Toby’s look 
rather than his act of blowing through the key-hole 
that caused his Majesty to smile so broadly. 
Whatever it was, he seemed mightily pleased, for he 

12 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


nods to both of us, still smiling, and he says : “ I 
doubt not the work will be well done.” 

I bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment 
and remained silent, awaiting his further speech. 

“ The business in hand, Master Everard,” he con- 
tinued, as he seated himself carelessly upon a corner 
of the table, and with his stick made passes at his 
toe as he swung it to and fro, “ requires most careful 
handling, for it concerns the welfare of England no 
less than it concerns me. That is why I desire the 
work to be done by you, for were I to have a body 
of soldiers do it the whole world must needs know 
of a matter that would sound far from well, and 
would be made much of by them that would even 
stoop to say that I was party to this most contempt- 
ible of plots. This gentleman ” — and with his stick 
he indicated Monmouth — “ it was, that by accident 
learned the designs of the daring traitors, and he it 
was also that told me of your great experience and 
ability in performing these secret and daring ser- 
vices.” 

I again bowed and remained silent, while he took 
his own time in giving me my instructions. 

“ This night,” resumed the King, “ there is at 
this place — even there, among the dancers without 
— a lady that must be escorted from here in such 
manner as shall assure her safety. That lady, Sir,” 
— and I leaned forward to catch what he said, so 
low did he speak— “ is a no less personage than the 
Queen.” 


*3 


Mark Everard 


* 


<& 


’Twas evident from the King’s manner that he 
expected me to be surprised by his statement, for 
he paused and watched me closely after he had told 
me of the Queen’s presence at the May-pole dance. 
If he was possessed of any doubts as to my knowl- 
edge of the doings of kings and queens, my manner, 
I think, dispelled them ; for 1 had not been a soldier 
of fortune for something over ten years — most of 
which time was spent in the service of kings and 
princes — without having learned that such a little 
thing as a queen in a masque at a May-pole dance 
(or a much worse even) is not of sufficient moment 
to cause surprise ; that is, when kings and queens are 
in the habit of doing things less innocent with every 
passing day. 

“Well,” continued the King, “some audacious 
scoundrels, possessed of more impudence than brains, 
have formed a most monstrous plot, with no less an 
object than the abduction of her Majesty. This 
they think successfully to accomplish by reason of 
the very boldness of the enterprise and also because 
the Queen has come without an escort, which, of 
course, was the only way she could come to such a 
place.” 

“ Is it known, Sir, in what place the abduction is 
to be attempted ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, ’tis fortunate we have some knowledge as 
to that. Their plan is, as I believe, to follow her 
Majesty’s chair when she shall leave this place, and 
somewhere between here and Whitehall — the exact 

H 


Mark Everard 


* 


♦ 


spot we have not knowledge of — they think to over- 
power her chairmen and thus carry her off without 
opposition.” 

“ Do you know their force, Sir ? ” 

“ James,” said the King, “ was’t not but three the 
message said ? ” 

“ Ay,” Monmouth answered, “ but there may be 
more. ’Twould be a good plan for assuring them 
that the guard would be small — that is, supposing 
the note was meant to fall into my hands.” 

“ Had they reason to suppose you suspected such 
a plot before the note you speak of was penned ? ” 
I asked, turning to the Duke. 

“ Split me ! no ; for I knew not even that the lady 
would be here until by seeming chance I came upon 
this note.” 

“ Then the conspirators could have no object in 
permitting such information of their plans to come 
into your hands. For this reason I am convinced 
that their number will not exceed three, providing, 
of course, that they have not learned of your pos- 
session of the note, which ’tis likely they do know 
of. But no matter,” I went on ; “I am willing to 
undertake the service, and to take the chance of 
there being more, if you are pleased to trust the 
matter to my hands.” 

“ Then the commission is yours, Sir,” said the 
King. 

“ Do' you know the names of any of the conspir- 
ators, Sir ? ” 




Mark Everard 


* 


* 


“ Nay, but I have ray suspicions. Of one thing 
we may be well assured, and that is they are no 
common robbers. I half suspect a person of high 
standing as their leader ; but I shall not give him a 
name, lest I wrong the innocent. But, Master 
Everard, if you can catch their leader, you never 
shall have cause in the future to say a Stuart 
knows not how to reward, even though we wreck 
an adage by the payment,” and he laughed 
silently at his own expense. 

“ At what hour will the lady leave ? ” 

“ We have one set to watch and inform us as to 
her movements.” 

“ Does the lady know aught of the plot? ” 

“ Nay, nay ; nor may she, or our plans to capture 
the plotters may miscarry, through a woman’s natu- 
ral timidity. Let her not know that you go with 
her, lest she become alarmed.” 

“ How shall I know her from another in the 
crowd ? ” 

“ Come with me and I shall show you.” He blew 
out the candles and led the way to the door that 
had hitherto remained closed. This he now opened, 
and we three (for Toby still stood at his post by the 
inner door) stepped forth upon a small balcony that 
ran some half-dozen paces along this side of the house. 

At first we could see nothing clearly in the court- 
yard below, because of the great glare and smoke 
from the torches ; but as our eyes became used to 
these difficulties we were able, first to distinguish 

16 


Mark Everard 


* 


4 


men from women, then— by their capers— the 
younger from their less nimble companions, and 
finally the different and ridiculous costumes of the 
Toms o’Bedlam, who danced, sang, tooted horns and 
cut capers unceasingly around the stately, garlanded, 
and ribbon-decked pole which stood in the centre 
blushing for its foolish surroundings. 

The King and Monmouth peered into the throng 
for some moments ere the former espied that for 
which he sought. Then he quickly drew forth his 
handkerchief and moved it up and down several 
times. 

“ Do you see those scarfs moving on the benches 
yonder ? ” he asked quickly, as he caught me by the 
arm and pointed to the opposite side of the court, 
where stood long rows of benches, placed one above 
another and crowded with spectators of both sexes, 
all ages, qualities and costumes. On the third bench 
from the bottom of one of these tiers was seated a 
masqued man, who was keeping time with the tune 
then progressing by waving two white scarfs, one 
in each hand. Directly in front of him, and sitting 
on the next seat below, were two ladies, one seem- 
ingly tall and the other short, that is, as well as one 
could judge from their appearance while seated. 
The only details in which they differed from the 
scores of others was in their masques, which covered 
their faces completely, instead of hiding the upper 
features only, as did the masques of most of those 
present, and, besides, they both wore cherry -coloured 
2 , 17 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


cloaks, with hoods that left no feature showing. 
Truly, ’twould take a most wondrous sharp eye to 
penetrate such disguises. Seated one on each side 
of the two ladies were two large men, not masqued, 
and plainly dressed. 

“ Do you see ? ” 

“A y, Sir.” 

Again his Majesty waved his handkerchief, and 
the man seated behind the two ladies ceased keeping 
time to the music. 

“ The shorter lady is your charge, Sir. The other 
is doubtless one of her ladies. Now you’ll have two 
on your hands. ’Od’s fish ! Master Everard, I envy 
you not your work.” 

“ Are the men on each side their attendants ? ” 

“ Ah ! I had not noted that. They have the look 
of chairmen. Good powerful looking fellows. They 
may render you substantial assistance.” 

“ There is but one point in this affair that I like no 
better than I understand,” I said, as we again en- 
tered the room and closed the door. 

“What is that ? ” asked Monmouth quickly. 

I struck a light ere I answered. 

“And that point is how it comes about that we 
were spied on after we entered this room.” I know 
not why I said this ; for the presence of the eaves- 
dropper at the door might easily be explained by 
granting that the plotters knew of the Little Duke’s 
possession of the note of which he spoke, and also 
supposing that they had recognised him, despite his 

18 


Mark Everard 




* 


disguise, and watched him enter the room with Toby 
and me. But I ever have made it a rule to trust few 
men until the}^ have been tried and proved true ; and 
in this case I felt no inclination to make the Duke 
of Monmouth an exception. There was something 
in his manner that I did not like, though whether 
this was natural to him, or the result of excitement 
caused by his knowledge of the plotters’ plans, I 
could not tell for a surety. I had my suspicions 
that it might come from his possession of a greater 
knowledge of the plot than he chose to make known 
to me, whence came my remark that I neither liked 
nor understood the presence of the eavesdropper. 
’Twas a good shaft, and I shot it well, but though 
the Duke was at times transparent, yet in this case, 
either my suspicions were groundless or Monmouth 
was no mean actor ; for he nodded his head thought- 
fully and replied : 

“ Yes, Sir, it looks as though they know of our 
discovery. That was why I said they may have 
meant the note for me. Think you not, Sir,” he 
said, turning to the King, “ that more men should 
be placed at Master Everard’s disposal. They might 
follow at some little distance, and need know noth- 
ing of the matter unless Master Everard signals 
for their help.” 

If it was acting, ’twas mighty well done ; but still, 
for some reason that I cannot explain, 1 could not 
help suspecting him. I felt sure there was some- 
thing hidden from me ; so I determined to pursue 

*9 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


&' ’ » ■ t 1 - * 

my own course in this matter, without regard to his 
suggestions. 

“ What say you, Master Everard ? Do ye need 
more men ? ” the King asked. 

“ No, Sir ; I prefer to conduct the business with- 
out other assistance than Toby’s good sword and 
my own.” 

“ I like it that you choose that course ; ’tis better 
every way.” 

I had my eye on Monmouth while the King spoke, 
but I learned nothing from his manner. ’Tis pos- 
sible I should have learned more had he not worn 
the masque. 

“ What way do you intend to go? ’’the Duke 
questioned. 

I hesitated. Was it wise to let him know my 
plans ? 

“ Yes, what way ? ” the King put in. 

Now I must answer ; and yet I disliked the 
thought of revealing my plans to the Little Duke. 

“ I think, Sir, I shall permit the ladies to take 
whatever course they please,” I answered. 

“Yes, yes, that is best,” said the King; and the 
Duke also seemed pleased with the idea. 

But I now was determined that I would make as 
sure as possible that I should not run across Mon- 
mouth nor permit any of his plans to interfere with 
the successful carrying out of my commission that 
night ; so just before Toby and I left the room I 
said to the King : 


20 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


“ I think, Sir, there is more in this matter than 
appears. I counsel, therefore, that you keep his 
Grace close by your side. Separate not for a mo- 
ment, lest j^our Majesty be the object of some more 
daring outrage.” 

“ Do you think they would dare attempt any- 
thing against me ? ” 

“ They have the daring, it would seem, to attempt 
the abduction of the Queen.” 

“Tut! ’tis absurd, Sir!” said the Duke, quite im- 
patient and annoyed. 

“ Still, James, ’tis better to be safe. And as 
Master Everard has charge of this difficult business, 
’t would be scant courtesy we should show him did 
we not follow his advice.” 

“ But I fail to see what object Master Everard 
can have in wishing to control our actions. We 
have not asked his protection for ourselves.” 

“But I say we will follow his advice, James. 
Let there be no further discussion.” 

Monmouth bit his lip, shrugged his shoulders and 
remained silent, while Toby and I uncovered, bowed 
and, when the King again had blown out the 
candles, left the room to take our place below, that 
we might watch for the Queen to leave. 

I had gained my point with the young Duke. If 
he was acting honestly his remaining with the King 
for the remainder of the evening would be no hard- 
ship. If, as I could not help suspecting — though 
without any reason — he had some card hidden in his 

2,1 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


sleeve, and was waiting a chance to play it, why then 
I had taken a wise precaution against having a sur- 
prise confront me. I was too old a hand at this 
kind of business not to know that surprises, no 
matter of what sort, are worth guarding against. 
And even if I had felt sure that Monmouth’s plans 
were meant for my benefit I should not have cared 
to be associated in so particular an undertaking 
with so impatient and reckless a young man. 

“ He’s mighty anxious for us to have a crowd 
with us, Sir,” said Toby quietly, and we started 
down the stairs. 

“ So you noted that too, eh, Toby ? ” 

“’Twas sticking right out of him, Sir.” 

“ Well, Toby, we’ll handle this alone, as we have 
many another ere this.” 

“ I’m glad you got him shut up with his dad ; I 
think he’s too old for his years, Sir.” 

By this we almost had reached the bottom of the 
stairs, so our conversation ceased while we made 
our way through the crowd, which now was com- 
mencing to become less thick. As we stepped into 
the court-yard my shoulder almost brushed against 
the Black-and-white Masque, who was stationed be- 
side the door w r ith his back to the wall. Doubt- 
less he was there to watch for us, for when he saw 
me he straightened himself up and stared at me 
boldly, while I returned his look with an amused 
smile, as I twirled my mustaches carelessly and 
walked on, turning my face partly over my shoulder 

22 


Mark Everard 






as I went, and still half-smiling at him. Toby 
strutted at my side like a bantam cock, twirled his 
mustaches as did I— for in all things he imitated 
me most ludicrously, even to the wearing of hair 
on the upper lip, which had become unfashionable 
— but, instead of appearing amused, looked most 
comically pugnacious. 

We made our way in a semicircle, that we might 
keep at some distance from the dancers, until we 
reached a point almost opposite the balcony, where 
I had stood with the King. Here I had a good view 
of the benches where sat the Queen and her com- 
panion, and here also I could watch the balcony and 
the door by which we had left standing the Black- 
and-white Masque. When I looked back to the 
door, however, he was not to be seen there. Doubt- 
less he was watching us from some other position. 
Well, so long as he would keep his eye on me — 
which I felt he would continue to do — why then 
there was no need for me to watch him. Without 
knowing it he was saving me a vast lot of trouble. 

Soon the merry-makers began to weary of their 
sport ; the spectators lost interest in the entertain- 
ment, and one by one they wandered off. We 
watched the benches closely. Presently I saw the 
Queen, after a whispered conference with her com- 
panion, rise and leave the stand, the taller lady, the 
two large men and the gentleman that had waved 
the scarfs following almost immediately. I nudged 
Toby, and we began to wind in and out through the 

23 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


crowd, never losing sight of the ladies as they 
passed out of the court. They turned down a short 
lane and, after going about two score paces, stopped 
before another smaller alley running off to the left. 
Into this place went the large men, while the third 
— he that was masqued — stood in a shadowy corner 
some distance in the rear of the ladies and on the 
other side of the lane. Toby and I were but a few 
paces behind him and also screened from the light of 
the street-lamp. I looked back, but could see no 
sight of any of the conspirators. That part of the 
lane between the court-yard that we had just left 
and us was deserted, they that were leaving the 
dance turning the other way, into the main thorough- 
fare. This discovery, that they were not behind us, 
puzzled me not a little. Had they given up their 
plans when they learned that precautions were 
being taken to prevent their plot from succeeding ? I 
wondered. Ho, that could not be it, or the Black- 
and-white Masque would not have been so on guard 
at the door when I came out. There was something 
here that I could not make out. So much more 
reason, then, for my being more cautious than ever. 
If they were preparing a surprise for me, they should 
learn before they were through with this affair that 
they were dealing with two men that were used to all 
kinds of attempts at surprise. If they should beat 
us, they always should have reason to remember 
their victory ; ’twould be a performance of which to 
be proud. 


24 


Mark Everard 




* 


Presently two chairs were brought out from the 
little alley. Into these our charges now stepped, 
and the four men (for two more chairmen had re- 
turned with the fellows that had entered the place) 
took up their burdens and started off at a good 
round pace. 

So soon as the masqued man ahead of us saw them 
start off he turned about and hastily started back. 
We pressed more into the shadow and permitted 
him to pass at a run, without seeing us. Straight 
back he went the way he had come and into the 
court-yard again he turned. He had waved his scarfs 
to the King. Was he returning to report to his 
Majesty, or to the conspirators — or to the Duke of 
Monmouth ? 

But now I had no time for the serious considering 
of this ; I was obliged to follow the two chairs, which 
rapidly were fading from view, as they hastened 
down the lane. We started after them, running 
lightly and almost silently until we had come to 
within about fifty yards of them, when we slackened 
our pace to about that at which they were going, 
that we might keep about that distance between 
us. Soon they turned to the right into a broader 
street, along which they went at the same good 
pace. We followed at the same distance. 

Now we had our faces turned westward, and if 
they would but keep to the principal streets and 
continue the same rate of speed, we should be at 
Whitehall in half an hour. The plotters would not 

25 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


dare molest them, except in some deserted, lonely 
place. 

“ So long as they but keep to the main streets, 
they are safe. Surely they will have the good sense 
to give lonely places a wide berth,” I whispered to 
Toby. 

“ Look ! ” 

At this moment a large coach rolled past at no 
slow pace, also headed to the west. A moment 
later it was followed by another at the same speed. 
From the window of the first of these a man’s head 
was leaning out, as though he watched for something. 
We quickened our pace to a run, keeping as close as 
possible behind the second coach, and yet a little to 
one side, that I might not lose sight of the man at 
the window of the first coach. As they drew near 
the chairs their speed slackened, and at the moment 
of passing, the man at the window leaned farther out, 
turned his head and stared back at the chairs. At 
that moment they came directly opposite to a street 
light. The glare shone straight in his face. . . . 
He wore a masque of black-and-white. 

Toby and I rushed forward, seized the axle of the 
rear coach and climbed up behind, and while we 
rolled on again at full speed I whispered my 
directions in Toby’s ear; for now I knew what 
was coming, and my plan of action was complete. 

On we went for several hundred yards, drew up 
with a jolt for a moment, then turned to the south, 
down a poorly-lighted and deserted lane. 

26 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


I had been expecting something like this to hap- 
pen, but until we turned I could think of no way in 
which the conspirators could assure themselves that 
the chairs would follow them, providing they did 
not previously know the exact route the ladies in- 
tended taking on their return to the Palace. But 
as we turned down the lane toward Fleet Street 
everything was made clear. The jolt that I have 
mentioned just before we turned was sufficiently 
abrupt and strange, after the seeming haste of a 
moment before, to arouse my curiosity as to its 
cause ; so I cautiously leaned my head a little past 
the side of the coach and took a peep at that that 
was ahead of us. 

As the conveyance stopped, there came to my ears 
loud and boisterous singing and cheering. I stared 
on past the horses, and there, two score of yards 
ahead of us, a great bonfire blazed in the middle of 
the street, and around it capered a throng of 
merry-makers. Judging by the quality of their song 
and roughness of their hoots and laughter, they 
were a low and drunken crowd, lower by far than 
the dancers in the court-yard of the inn we had left. 

I had time only sufficient for taking in this lewd 
scene at a glance, for now both coaches turned 
sharply to the left, down the lane of which I have 
made mention. 

Again I looked out past the side of the coach. 
The first coach was rapidly drawing away from us, 
as it dashed down the narrow street at a gallop, 

27 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


whilst our pace slackened to a gentle trot, and then to 
a walk. Wondrous strange conduct, but yet I thought 
I saw through their plans. I made no sound, but 
leaned yet farther out and strained my eyes to keep 
sight of the coach that was plunging into, and bury- 
ing itself in, the gloom ahead of us. 

“ Ha ! very good. You are smart boys, smart 
boys ; but boys nevertheless. The two-coach plan is 
good, ’tis original, and might reasonably be expected 
to succeed, providing, of course, that you had other 
men to deal with than Mark Everard and Toby 
Hunt, and also having a care that these same two 
old soldiers — Mark and Toby — did not take it into 
their heads to climb on behind the second coach. 
Ha! ha!” I chuckled softly to myself, “you are 
playing the game nicely, but I swear the money 
is rolling our way without your knowledge,” and 
I poked Toby in the ribs with my elbow as I saw 
the first coach turn sharply to the left and, still 
at a gallop, disappear. 

It was now necessary that we should act quickly, 
so I gave the little man a few more whispered di- 
rections — for my plan was now slightly changed — 
and then we stood ready, awaiting the time when 
we should lead the music. 

We had not long to wait; for as we drew near 
the street into which the first coach had turned, we 
came to a halt. One of the doors opened and a 
gruff voice asked : “ All clear there, my man ? ” 

“ Ay, Sir,” replied the coachman, “ the lane 

28 


Mark Everard 


4 




seems empty. The people all are up at the bonfire, 
Sir.” 

“ ’Tis a mighty sharp night for the first of May. 
Do you think we shall have long to wait ? ” 

“ Oh, no, Sir, the chairs’ll be here in five minutes, 
and the other coach’ll be right behind them, Sir.” 

The driver was leaning over the right side of his 
seat, his head turned toward the open door. This 
gave Toby his opportunity to descend quietly from 
his perch and make his way slowly but surely along 
the left side, past the unsuspecting driver and to the 
heads of the horses. 

“ Well, I think I shall ” 

Toby gave a sharp whistle, his signal to me that 
he had reached his place. The coachman sprang 
upright on his seat and called out sharply : “ Who’s 
there ? ” The man at the window leaned farther 
out, awaiting Toby’s answer. 

I knew the little man never would be stuck for 
an answer, but I swear it caught my breath when 
it took the form of a song. But such it was, and 
extempore at that : 

“ He says, says he : 

‘ Now who be ye ? ’ 

My answer is : 

* The same to thee’.” 

Had I not known that Toby was the only one at 
the heads of the horses, I should have been willing 
to swear ’twas some harmless drunkard returning 

29 


Mark Everard 




* 


home from his celebration of the holiday. I almost 
laughed aloud in spite of myself. 

“ Get out o’ there, now, or I’ll go down and give 
you a taste o’ boot leather. ! ” cried the driver angrily 
and made a move as though to carry out his threat. 

“ No, don’t leave the reins,” said the man at the 
door. “ I shall attend to him.” And he stepped to 
the ground and started forward. 

I had not looked for this, for I had expected the 
driver to get down from his seat to remove Toby. 
However, ’twas of but little moment how we should 
overpower them, so long as it would not take long ; 
too much time had been wasted already. So I 
descended from my position behind the coach, so 
soon as I heard the man at the door say he would 
remove Toby, and started quickly but quietly after 
him, the moment his back was turned. I raised the 
hilt of my sword to knock him quietly on the head, 
but not relishing the thought of perhaps killing 
the fellow whilst his back was turned, I changed 
my mind and stuck the blade between his legs, at 
the same time hurling my weight against his 
shoulders. He lurched forward, his hands spread 
out to save himself, and sprawled at full length in 
the mud, at the same time uttering a cry of dismay, 
which was immediately followed by a string of 
oaths, as I rolled him upon his back and proceeded 
to unbuckle his sword-belt, with which I purposed to 
bind his arms to his sides. 

At that moment the driver sprang to the ground 

30 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


and with a muttered curs rushed upon me, the 
butt of his heavy whip thrown back for a blow at 
my head. The moment he sprang from his seat 
Toby called out a warning, so I was not caught 
napping. The whip handle whistled through the 
air ; I sprang to one side, and the man that I had 
been binding received the blow upon his ribs. I 
caught the wrist of the coachman ere he could step 
back. With a quick jerk I landed him fairly upon 
the top of his unfortunate companion, who be- 
tween groans cursed the bungling driver for all the 
fools and knaves unhung, in the most approved 
manner. Both struggled manfully to regain their 
feet ; and at last, to force him to submit, I was 
compelled to give the driver a blow upon the neck 
with my clenched fist. This treatment quieted 
him most marvelously. He stretched out flat upon 
his face and made no more move, whilst I hastily 
completed the binding of the other’s arms ; after which 
I securely fastened the coachman’s hands behind 
his back with a piece cut from the lash of his whip, 
which operation brought him to his senses. I then 
tightly gagged the driver with my scarf, and the 
other with his own. 

“ How, into the coach, if you please,” I invited, 
taking them by the collars and assisting them to 
rise. “ Come, Toby, and give me a hand ; the 
horses, I think, will not move,” I called. Then, 
when we had them both placed in the front seat, 
we took another piece of the whip-lash and bound 

31 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


their feet together — “ That there may be something 
to draw you to each other,” — as Toby remarked to 
them. 

It has taken me some little time to describe the 
capture of these two conspirators; but from the 
time when the coach came to a halt until they 
were both prisoners, safely lodged within the coach, 
more than five minutes could not have elapsed. 
’Twas lucky it took us no longer, for as Toby 
climbed to the coachman’s seat I caught the sound 
of an approaching coach. Looking back up the 
lane I could dimly make out a great dark object, 
preceded by another, which, I made no doubt, was 
the chairs, all coming along at a good swinging 
pace. I did not know how the plotter whose place 
I had taken, and whose part I was about to play, 
had planned to act when the chairs should reach 
the place where we waited ; but I did not hesitate to 
act in my own way, and abide by the result. On 
they came, the stalwart chairmen almost running. 
Now they were a score of yards away ; now ten, 
and their pace slackened a little ; now five paces, 
and they came still slower ; now they turned to one 
side to pass the coach — and I stepped forth and 
faced them. They came to an instant halt — and 
who would not, when the point of a sword is held 
under one’s nose ? Then, to my great surprise, they 
put down the chair. I gasped in surprise. Was 
there treachery here, too ? Ha ! I saw through it. 
The tall lady, who stepped lightly forth, was also 

32 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


in the plot. I must now act with lightning quick- 
ness. Doubtless she would not expect to find two 
prisoners in the coach, toward the door of which 
she now stepped as readily as if ’twere her own, 
and had been ordered by her to be in waiting there. 

“ Madam,” I whispered hastily (I feared to speak 
in my natural tones, lest she might know my voice 
belonged not to be man that she expected) “ be not 
alarmed by the presence of the men within ; they 
are my prisoners.” And I gave her my hand and 
assisted her to her seat. 

As she stepped in I heard a rush of feet, a scuffle, 
oaths, and above all else a woman’s fearful screams. 
’Slife ! the Queen had the voice of a screech-owl. 
Zooks! enough to make any man come to her 
assistance, if for no other reason than that he might 
preserve his hearing. I rushed back to her Majesty’s 
chair, where a savage fight was taking place between 
two chairmen and the two conspirators from the 
other coach, while the Queen was furnishing the 
music from her chair. As I came up one of the 
chairmen, with a groan, fell to the ground, where he 
lay, coughing out his life in bloody mouthfuls. I 
sprang to the chair, grasped the little screaming 
lady in my arms and started back toward the car- 
riage. Did I say owl ? I should have said cat. 
Zounds ! the skin was gone from the side of my nose 
before I could swear. 

A hand was placed upon my shoulder, “ No, no ; 
the other coach,” said a man’s voice at my side, and 

33 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


I turned to see the tall Black Masque, who had just 
killed the chairman. 

I paid no heed to what he said, but hastened to 
the door of the coach, which was but a half-dozen 
paces distant. 

“ I say the other coach ! Do you hear ? Are you 
mad, man?” And again he seized my shoulder, 
roughly, as we reached the carriage door. 

I saw Toby spring to the ground, — resting quietly 
whilst a fight was in progress was more than he 
could bear, — so I paid no more attention to the con- 
spirator, but swung the door open and thrust her 
Majesty not too gently in. My two prisoners were 
struggling with their bonds, rubbing their heads 
against the shoulders of each other in their efforts to 
displace the tight scarfs that prevented them from 
calling out. 

“ Cease your attempts to get free,” I said roughly, 
“ or you shall compel me to soothe you with cold 
steel.” And I seized one by the shoulder and gave 
him a shake, that he might know that he was within 
my reach. 

The Queen made but one more frantic effort to 
destroy the remains of my beauty, then, with a 
scream that put to shame her former efforts, she 
leaned back in her seat and sobbed foreign prayers 
into her handkerchief. 

All this was accompanied by the click of swords, 
for the moment I had thrown the coach door open 
and thrust the Queen within, the masqued con- 

34 


Mark Everard 


* 




spirator behind my back with a cry, “ ’Tis that 
damned Everard ! ” sprang forward, his blade pointed 
to spit me. But Toby I never have known to act 
too late. As the sword of the Masque darted for- 
ward another blade clicked sharply against it, and 
the point of my assailant passed harmlessly a foot 
above my head. 

At this moment cries for help came from where 
the Black-and-white Masque was struggling with 
the remaining faithful chairman. The other two 
traitors, who had stood inactive, now rushed to the 
spot whence came the call, whilst Toby’s sword still 
clicked against the weapon of his adversary, whom 
the little swordsman was forcing to give ground 
rapidly. But now I had the Queen safely shut in 
the coach, so I ran to the assistance of the faithful 
chairman. The two knaves had just pulled him off 
the Black-and-white Masque, who, as I came up, 
showed a lightness of heels not in keeping with his 
girth. I sprang at the two chairmen, who were 
holding the loyal fellow down. They waited not my 
coming, but followed the example of their master. 
I dashed after them, but my foot caught on the 
corpse of the man that had been killed by the fellow 
that Toby now fought, and I measured my length 
in the half-dry mud. As I fell Toby called out, 
“ Run, coward ! ” and the Black Masque sprang 
over me and dashed up the lane after the others. 

I quickly picked myself up and started in pursuit. 
But they had too great a start. As I drew near 

35 


Mark Everard 


♦ 


* 


the coach the driver lashed his horses ; they bounded 
forward into a space beside the lane, and at a gallop 
turned back toward the bonfire. 

I turned to the badly bruised chairman and asked 
him how he did. He stood in an attitude of de- 
fence, the point of a sword resting on the ground 
before him. 

“ Who are you, Sir ? ” he asked. 

“ I fear you would know me no better were I to 
tell you my name. That I have saved the ladies you 
can see for yourself. Is not that sufficient to assure 
you that I mean you no harm ? ” 

“ True, you have saved the ladies from others ; 
but how do I know where you intend to take them, 
Sir ? I know not who they are, but I am paid to 
bear them safely, and I’ll do my duty.” 

“ As for that, my faithful fellow, if you can drive, 
you may do so, providing you make for — say 
Whitehall.” 

He hesitated a moment. 

“ Come, we must make haste ; the knaves may 
return with re-enforcements. What shall we do 
with this poor corpse ? ” I nodded to his dead 
comrade. 

“ Poor John! He was a man, Sir, he was. I’ll 
come back for him, after we get the ladies home, 
Sir. Poor old John ! ” 

We carried the corpse and laid it by the chairs at 
the side of the lane. The chairman climbed to the 
coachman’s seat and untied the reins from where 

36 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


Toby had fastened them to keep the horses from 
starting off while the fight was on. 

“ They’re making an awful row in there, Sir,’’ 
said Toby, jerking his thumb toward the door. “ I 
had to jab one of them fellows, Sir, to make him 
quiet, and that started the women to yell louder 
than ever, Sir.” He shook his head in disgust. 

I opened the door and looked in. The prison- 
ers were now quiet— evidently Toby’s “ jab ” had 
taught them a lesson in good behaviour — but the 
ladies were embracing each other and one was sob- 
bing unrestrainedly. Zooks ! ’tis no wonder Toby 
was disgusted. 

“ Up to the coachman’s seat, Toby. Let that fel- 
low drive. We must make haste or we may be 
waylaid ourselves. 

“How, Sir,” I said, addressing the more impor- 
tant of my prisoners, “ if you please to move over a 
bit you may have the pleasure of my company.” 
Then, as I took my place and slammed the door 
shut — which seemed to justify the Queen in giving 
another deafening scream — we started on at a good 
pace. 

“How, Madam,” I said to her Majesty, “be not 
alarmed. You have been rescued from a most das- 
tardly plot, the object of which you may guesg. 
These men, who are my prisoners, were captured in 
the cowardly attempt. Their companions unfor- 
tunately escaped.” I might as well have talked to 
the moon ; in faith, much better ; for the more I 

37 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


said the more she jabbered. Not so the other lady. 
The moment I told her she had been rescued from 
a band of abductors she started and, sitting bolt up 
right, demanded : 

“ And what may you be, Sir ? ” 

“ I may be many things, Madam ; but one thing I 
am not, and that is the dupe of abductors— nor of 
the abducted neither,” I added meaningly. 

She said not another word, but sank back beside 
the Queen, around whom she put her arm. This at 
last quieted her Majesty, who soon uttered no fur- 
ther sound than an occasional sob, half stifled in her 
handkerchief. 

And thus, without more incident, we came ere 
long to Whitehall. 


38 


CHAPTER II. 


That night, before I left the Palace, the King 
gave me orders to report to him the next morning, 
about the hour of ten, as he should then be at leisure 
to hear a detailed description of the attempted ab- 
duction of the Queen. 

Accordingly, at the appointed time I presented 
myself in the King’s anteroom, fully expecting to 
be kept waiting for an hour or more, while the lazy 
monarch should finish his dreams. Great, then, was 
my surprise when, the moment I entered the room, 
a gentleman hastened to me and asked if I was 
Master Everard. In faith he had no great crowd 
to choose from, there being but three or four others 
present. I answered that I was ; whereupon he in- 
formed me that the King had been most anxiously 
awaiting me for the past hour. 

“ Something more must have been learned con- 
cerning the conspirators,” I thought, as I followed 
my conductor across the room toward another 
chamber. “It must be of vast importance, truly, 
to cause the indolent Charles to rise thus early. 
Has he discovered the name of the leader of the 
three ? ” I wondered. For the night before he had 
been sadly disappointed because we had not caught 

39 


Mark Everard 


♦ 


4 


the other tall, Black Masque ; for the fellow we had 
captured turned out to be a subordinate, the tool of 
some more powerful knave. 

The King was pacing to and fro across the room 
when I entered, his head bowed, his brows contracted 
in a frown, and his hands clasped behind his back. 
He halted and looked up quickly when my name 
was announced, then came toward me eagerly, his 
swarthy features brightening, as though my coming 
had lifted a burden from him. 

“ Ha ! Everard,” he said quickly, “ I am pleased 
mightily to see you. There’s more work been cut 
out for you and your little devil.” 

’Twas fortunate Toby was not present, or he 
should have dropped dead instantly ; his indignation 
surely would have burst him. 

“Does it concern the same persons with whom 
we dealt last night, Sir ? ” 

“ Ay, ay, they must be the same knaves. ’Od’s 
fish! I should like the pleasure of seeing them 
strung up by their necks. Zooks ! the next thing I 
expect is to be carried off, bed and all, some night 
whilst I sleep. This sort of outrage must come to 
a halt. I have permitted too much freedom about 
the Court. If the ingrates will abuse their liberty, 
why, I must make an example that will teach them 
a lesson.” 

’Twas laughable when the King said he permitted 
too much freedom about the Court. He had set 
the example himself, and on his own head rested. 

40 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


the onus of having the most dissolute Court in 
Europe. Possibly I should say after France ; for it 
is doubtful to which of these two belonged this 
unenviable distinction. 

I twirled my mustaches patiently while his 
Majesty made several more turns to and fro before 
me. 

“ You know the lady that accompanied the Queen 
last night, Sir ? ” said he presently, as he came to an 
abrupt halt before me. 

“ Not personally, Sir.” 

“ Nay, nay ! I mean you remember the lady ? ” 
he laughed. 

“ I do indeed, Sir.” 

“ You saw her enter the Palace by a private door 
with her Majesty last night ? ” 

“ I did, Sir. I held the door open whilst both the 
ladies entered,” I replied, wondering what object he 
could have in asking these foolish questions. 

“Well, Sir, since that time she has disappeared.” 

“ Zooks ! ” 

“Zooks ! You might swear less mildly, and still 
not be extravagant. What make you of it ? ” 

I gave my mustaches a few thoughtful pulls ere 
I asked : “ Were there any signs of violence ? ” 

“ No, not so far as I can learn.” 

I had an idea how it had happened, but I did not 
like the thought of informing the King of how 
willing the said lady was to leave her chair and step 
into the coach. Instead, I drew forth the sword of 

41 


Mark Everard 


* 


♦ 


the Black-and-white Masque, which, you will remem- 
ber, was picked up by the one faithful chairman 
after I had driven the two knaves from him. Toby 
had got it from the fellow after we reached the 
Palace, and I brought it with me this morning, in 
place of my own, that I might show it to the King ; 
for engraven on the blade, near the hilt, was a crest 
and the name : Sir Alfred Heron ; and his Majesty, 
I made no doubt, would know something of this Sir 
Alfred. Without a word I handed it to the King, 
my finger pointed to the name. 

“ ‘ Sir Alfred Heron,’ ” he read. “ Why, Master 
Everard, how come you by this gentleman’s sword ? ” 

“ Well, Sir, the owner of the weapon left the lane 
in such haste last night, when he and his friends 
tried so unsuccessfully to carry off the Queen, that 
he forgot to take the blade along with him.” 

“ What is this ? Sir Alfred in the plot ? Why, 
Sir, ’twas his own daughter he was attempting to 
abduct. The lady was. Mistress Heron. ’Od’sfish! 
I see through it now. ’Tis her father that has car- 
ried her off ! ” 

I regretted being the instrument that conveyed 
the knowledge to the King that Sir Alfred had car- 
ried off his daughter. Who had a better right to 
abduct her? I began to see through the whole 
affair now, though still there were several points 
that I could not understand. If this Sir Alfred’s 
only object was the taking away of his daughter 
from the Court, why had his companion been so 

42 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


anxious to have me put the Queen into the other 
coach ? Why should they have molested the Queen 
at all ? And then again, how was it that Monmouth 
should have been so well acquainted with the plans 
of the plotters ? I still had my suspicions of the 
Little Duke. Sir Alfred might have most excellent 
reasons for wishing his daughter to leave the Court 
— doubtless the young lady had good reasons herself 
— still the actions of this same Sir Alfred were, 
to say the least, suspicious. I was not sure that 
he was deserving of sympathy. However, I now 
should be on my guard. I should learn for what 
the King wanted me. He should do the talking ; 
I soon might be placed in a position where it would 
be in my power to sift this matter to the bottom. 
Then I could decide who were the deserving and 
who the guilty. It would be time then for the be- 
stowing of sympathy. Meantime I would keep my 
thoughts to myself. They there would be in no 
one’s way. 

The King paced back and forth angrily, jerking 
out short, quick sentences, besprinkled most liberally 
with oaths. I could not catch all that he said, for 
his words seemed addressed more to himself than 
me. But I distinctly heard him repeat several 
times : “ Ha ! Sir Alfred, so ’tis you, after all. I 
have been on the wrong scent. So, so, that is the 
way you would thwart me ! ’Od’s fish ! you have 
taken the wrong course. ’Tis time I put my foot 
down. Zooks ! I’ll not be so boldly defied. 

43 


Mark Everard 


% 


* 


“ Master Everard,” he said suddenly, as he again 
came to a halt before me, “ are you ready to under- 
take another affair for me ? ” 

“ That depends, Sir, on what the affair is,” I 
replied guardedly ; for I had no intention of mixing 
myself up in any of his disgraceful amours ; and I 
suspected, after what he had said of the lady, it was 
something after this kind for which he desired my 
services. 

The King flushed in anger ; then, after a moment, 
in which my eyes were on his own, he burst into 
laughter. 

“ Upon my soul, Everard, I never have met the 
like of you before. I know of no other man that 
dare to speak to me as you do. Your bluntness 
takes one’s breath away, and yet,” he added, still 
laughing, “ the manner is mighty becoming, and I 
can’t help liking it in you ; though at first ’tis a bit 
shocking.” 

I made no comment, and the King went on : 

“ Well, then, the matter that I wish you to take 
in hand is the arrest of this Sir Alfred Heron, 
whose sword you already have captured. ’Tis to 
be hoped he may be as successfully taken. Do you 
consent ? ” 

I could see no reason for refusing. In fact I 
was most curious to unravel the little mysteries 
connected with this affair. I readily consented. 

“ His arrest, as you can understand, must be most 
secret. I merely wish him to be prevented from 

44 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


leaving his estate at present. I shall place what- 
ever number of men you wish at your disposal. 
You shall need at least a half dozen, besides your 
great Toby.” Here the King smiled as he thought 
of the little swordsman. “ I shall send you further 
instructions when I hear that you have laid hands 
on your prisoner.” 

“ Shall I report to your Majesty here ? ” 

“ Yes, for the remainder of this week. The Court 
will leave Whitehall for Dover next week. If I 
hear not from you before I leave, I shall send you 
directions as to what you are to do with Sir Alfred.” 
“ Where shall I seek my prisoner, Sir ? ” 

“ His estate is in Kent, not far from Canterbury. 
I shall send with you an officer that knows the 
way.” 

“ How soon shall we set out, Sir ? ” 

“ How soon can you be ready ? ” 

“ Within the hour, Sir.” 

“ Then within the hour you shall set out. No 
time may be spared. If Sir Alfred should learn 
that his treachery has been discovered, I believe he 
will take at once to flight. If he be allowed time 
in which to leave his home, you are like to have 
difficulty in capturing him. And captured he must 
be. ’Od’s fish ! I will turn England upside down, 
but he shall not escape ! ” And he struck his 
clenched fist into his other palm, by way of emphasis. 

I was not surprised that his Majesty’s temper 
was roused, for, to tell the truth, the abduction of 

45 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


a lady from the Court was a most monstrous dar- 
ing enterprise. Yet, behind all this cause that he 
had for wrath — and I think there is none that will 
not admit it was sufficient— I thought I saw another 
reason for his determination to prevent this Sir 
Alfred’s escape. ’Tis possible it was my knowledge 
of the King’s failings that caused me to look for 
other than most apparent causes for this thirst for 
revenge. I could not help feeling a sort of mis- 
chievous delight because this Mistress Heron had 
succeeded in making her escape from this place, 
which evidently was not to her liking. Heaven 
knows I had no love for women ; yet my sympa- 
thies ever have been with the weaker side, provid- 
ing, of course, that the weaker side be possessed of 
some kind of virtue. In this case the King un- 
doubtedly was the stronger. And as for virtue 
— well, his absolute ignorance of what that word 
meant was his only excuse for not possessing the 
quality. 

“ I shall send you a warrant by the officer that I 
shall place under your command,” he said, after a 
few more turns about the room, which exercise 
seemed to have a soothing effect upon his anger. 

I bowed and started to withdraw. 

“Ah! I had forgot ; I am your debtor. You 
shall doubtless need money. I know how mighty 
inconvenient ’tis to be without it. Zooks ! I would 
that I could gain it as easily as do you, Master 
Everard. You have but to fight for a living. I 

46 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


must both fight and beg for mine.” And he made 
a grimace, and laughed good-naturedly. “You 
shall have what I owe you, Everard. I’ll send you 
a purse by the officer.” He nodded smilingly, 
turned with a sigh, and strolled leisurely across the 
room to a door in the opposite wall, while I bowed 
deeply to his back and withdrew. 

Zooks ! but this Charles was an odd mixture — for 
a king. 


47 


CHAPTER III. 


An hour after I left Whitehall an officer and six 
men rode into the court-yard of the inn at which I 
was staying. The officer hastily dismounted and 
advanced to where I had been standing for some 
moments, awaiting his arrival. 

“ Have I the honour to address Master Everard, 
Sir ? ” he asked. 

“ That is m} r name, Sir,” I answered, advancing 
my hand for the weighty looking document that he 
held toward me. 

As I glanced hurriedly over the parchment — 
which was my warrant for the arrest of one Sir 
Alfred Heron — the young gentleman explained 
briefly that he was Sir Charles Rawlev, Bart., a 
lieutenant in the King’s guards, with orders from the 
King to place himself and his men under my com- 
mand for special service ; all of which (with the 
exception of the fact that he was Sir Charles 
Rawley, Bart., a person with a monstrous opinion 
of his own importance) I knew before. He then 
drew forth a purse of gold, which he handed to me 
with the words : “ With the compliments of his 

Majesty the King.” 

I called Toby and gave the order to set out at once. 

48 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


In ten minutes we rode forth from the inn ; in ten 
more we were crossing the bridge, and within three 
quarters of an hour after receiving the King’s war- 
rant we had left the city far behind. 

Thanks to the weather the road was good, so we 
made fast time, having put something more than 
fifteen miles between London and us by one o’clock, 
when we halted at a wayside inn for our midday 
meal. We rested here but an hour, and then pro- 
ceeded at the same round pace, for I was deter- 
mined to reach the house of Sir Alfred before night- 
fall. 

Sir Charles proved to be a better companion than 
I had at first thought him, being free of conversa- 
tion — that is, if the answering of questions may be 
called conversation. I could see from his manner, 
however, that he felt himself in no way honoured 
by being placed under my command, though, to do 
the boy justice, he tried mightily to keep from 
showing it. Had I been ten years younger this 
might have caused me annoyance, but having 
brushed shoulders with so many and so various 
animals I found it more amusing than otherwise, 
and would now and again indulge in some petty 
familiarity, merely for the diversion of watching his 
hidden resentment. Think not from this that I was 
born with an even temper. On the contrary, the 
devil supplied me with an abundance of fire. But 
I never was one that sought a quarrel (though I 
never have avoided one), and though there are many 

4 49 


Mark Everard 






to whom my manner is irritating, I am slow to fall 
out with them for that reason. To this boy I 
was but a swaggering adventurer, a fighter of duels, 
a brawler at inns, who was now on *a service in 
keeping with my reputation ; while he was a 
gentleman born and bred, to whom it was but 
scant honour to be engaged in such an enterprise. 
He was right. ’Twas amusing, upon my sofil ! 
But he — like many another — did not know Mark 
Everard. 

But as the afternoon wore on I began gradually 
to form another opinion of the young officer* 
Becoming less frozen under the warmth of my 
apparently confiding and careless manner, he — 
perhaps unconsciously — grew more familiar. He 
began by asking me of affairs in France, having 
previously learned from ray conversation that I had 
been returned from there but a few days ; then 
England became the subject — England in general — 
then the Court, the King, the Queen, and finally he 
mentioned a thing of no less importance than the 
King’s presence at the May -pole dance the night 
before. It was at this point that my opinion of the 
young gentleman underwent the change. Was it 
possible that this boy, this stripling, was attempting 
to draw me out ? ’Twas absurd ! Yet, how knew 
he of the King’s presence at the dance? Might 
there not be something in this young man that I 
had not looked for? Most assuredly I had every 
reason to be on my guard. Did not I suspect the 

50 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


young Duke of Monmouth of being connected with 
the abduction plot ? Well, then, if the affair was of 
sufficient importance for his Grace to mix himself 
up in and take such monstrous risks, was it not to 
be expected that a person who had played so im- 
portant a part in the affair as had one Mark Everard 
would be worth keeping an eye on? It suddenly 
occurred to me, as I asked myself these questions, 
that this Sir Charles Eawley was not all that I had 
thought him — or, rather, he was more, much 
more. 

I did not let my companion see that my suspicions 
were aroused, but, on the contrary, discussed the 
matter freely with him. 

“ Does his Majesty make a practice of attending 
such merry-makings ? ” I asked. 

“ Oh, yes, though for some time past he has 
gone most secretly.” 

“ And was he used to go more openly, then ? ” I 
asked in apparent surprise. I was setting a trap 
for Sir Charles. 

“ Yes, he has been more careful since — some time 
since — the Queen, who accompanied him, was left 
alone, sitting in her chair, and managed to reach 
the Palace only with great difficulty and danger. 
Some there were that spoke of a plot to have her 
Majesty abducted, and that she was left thus alone 
that the abductors^might the more easily succeed. 
Of course ’twas absurd,” he added with a depre- 
ciating shrug. “ But when this story got abroad 

5 1 


Mark Everard 


* 


fc 


his Majesty’s ministers advised him to discontinue 
the practice.” 

“ And how long is it since this amusing incident 
occurred ? ” I smiled. 

“ ’Tis some two years since. ’Twas before my 
time at Court. Since then, until last night, the 

Que ” He broke off abruptly and turned scarlet 

to the roots of his hair. 

I spurred my horse sharply on the side farther 
from Sir Charles, and as the beast pranced and 
sidled angrily under my tight rein, I swore roundly 
at him, that the young gentleman might labour 
under the delusion that I had not noted his lapsus 
lingua. 

“ Your pardon, Sir,” I said, when my mount 
again walked quietly : “ I did not hear your last 
remark.” 

“ Ah ! yes ; ’twas about his Majesty, I think. I 
said he has been more careful as to where the Queen 
goes since that night. Her Majesty is not now 
permitted to indulge in such romantic frolics. For 
that was romantic; was it not?” He laughed 
uneasily. 

“ Yes, indeed,” I replied, and started on at a 
gallop. 

I had made a discovery. My companion knew of 
the Queen’s presence at the dance of the previous 
night. Besides this, he did not wish me to know of 
his knowledge, else he would not have checked 
himself so confusedly when he saw he was telling 

5* 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


too much. Was there no end to the number of the 
conspirators? Yet, when I came to think of it— 
as I did to the accompaniment of the horses’ hoofs 
beating upon the hard road, the clank of scabbards, 
the jingle of spurs, as we dashed ahead — ’twas quite 
to be expected that they — the conspirators — would 
have some one sent with me that would keep them 
informed as to my success — or lack of it. If Mon- 
mouth, or any one else of power, was in their ranks 
’twas no trouble to have one of their trusted men 
chosen as the officer to accompany me. Well, they 
had sent one that was not over deep, and I 
had partly found him out, so I felt no great uneasi- 
ness for the present. I should keep a close watch 
on the Baronet and try to find out what were his 
plans before he should have an opportunity of 
carrying them to a point where they might seriously 
interfere with mine. It was quite likely, though, 
that his men were of his own colour, and doubtless 
they were thoroughly posted as to the part each 
was to play. Seven against two! If the plot- 
ters were determined to carry their designs out 
boldly, Toby and I seemed destined to find ourselves 
in a most interesting situation. Zooks ! ’twould not 
be the first time for us to find ourselves in such cir- 
cumstances. But now, as I thought of this young 
man’s attempting to outwit so old a hand as was I, 

I must confess the situation struck me as somewhat 
new. Yes, it was original; and then, as I thought 
cm it the more, it seemed almost laughable. I 

53 


Mark Everard 




* 


turned to glance at Sir Charles ; he was watching 
me with a troubled look upon his boyish features. 
That was the climax ; I had to turn my face away 
and spur my horse, that he might not see me burst 
out laughing. 

By this time the sun was sinking low. In another 
hour he would be gone for the night. There was no 
time for more talk. Sir Alfred’s home must be 
reached in that hour ; and our horses were weary, 
and Sir Charles informed me that we were yet some 
eight or ten miles from our destination. There was 
no drawing of reins, but the spur soon was plied 
freely, and a neck was clapped encouragingly, and 
an oath was rolled out roughly, when an uncertain 
step was made. Our party soon became less compact, 
the weaker beasts, or those that bore the greatest 
weights, gradually dropping behind. 

“We turn here, Sir,” called out Sir Charles, as we 
drew near a road leading to the right. 

“ How much farther 1 ” I panted, as we halted at 
the corner, that we might permit the stragglers to 
overtake us. 

“ But one league more, Sir ; and the sun is still 
twenty minutes from the earth,” he answered, as he 
followed my example of using the hat as a fan. 

The roads were dry, and we were a sorry sight, 
covered as we were with dust from head to foot. 

Then on we went at a painful gallop for two miles 
more, the horses’ heads wobbling wearily; then a 
trot became our fastest pace, and with our followers 

54 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


again strung far out behind, we came at last to the 
gates of Heron Hall just as the sun’s rim disappeared 
behind the wooded horizon. 

I pulled at the bell-chain, shook the iron gate 
vigorously and shouted several times, ere I suc- 
ceeded in getting the porter from his lodge. Pres- 
ently, however, he came to the other side of the gate 
and looked through at us stupidly, asking no ques- 
tions, nor making any move to admit us. 

“ Come, my man, open quickly. Zounds ! ’tis not 
you we have come to see,” I snapped, annoyed by 
his sullen stare. 

“ Who are you ? ” he growled, without moving a 
muscle. 

“ The devil ! What is that to you ? Open that 
gate at once, sirrah, or I’ll wear out my scabbard 
upon your back when I do get in ! ” 

“ When you do get in, ! ” he repeated with a shrug 
of his shoulders, and turned to walk away. 

“ Halt ! ” I shouted, drawing a pistol and taking 
aim through the bars of the gate. “ Come back here 
and open this gate, or you’ll never open another ! ” 

He stopped and looked back, scowling. “ There 
would be no one to open it for you at all if you 
killed me,” he replied deliberately. 

“ Zooks ! you should be as useful to me dead as 
you are living.” 

“ Ho, I wouldn’t,” he contradicted in the same 
dull tones. 

“Why?” .1 questioned, studying the strange 

,55 


Mark Everard 




# 


creature. ’Twas evident this fellow could not be 
frightened. He spoke the truth ; ’twould do me no 
good to kill him, and although it looked as if he 
would be of but little use to me living, yet ’tis sel- 
dom that a quick man is not better than a dead. And 
besides all this, I am no assassin, and had no thought 
of shooting him. 

“ Because, if you will wait, Pll ask the master if 
you’re to be admitted.” And not waiting my reply, 
he started slowly up the winding drive toward the 
house. 

I heard a gruff oath behind me, and turned in time 
to see Toby shaking his fist at the disappearing 
porter. 

“ He’s just trying to gain time, Sir,” said the 
little man angrily. “ I’d like to know what’s going 
on up at the house, Sir.” 

“ Zooks ! I believe you are right. Is there an- 
other entrance to the park, Sir Charles ? ” 

“ ’Od’s fish ! yes, Sir,” he answered with a start. 
“ It’s on the other side, almost opposite this one.” 

“ Then while we wait here they may be making 
their escape. ’Tis as you say, Toby ; the porter is 
gaining time. Quick ! hold my rein. That gate 
must be opened.” 

I sprang to the ground and, warning my com- 
panions to keep well back, placed my pistol to the 
great lock and fired. There was a sharp report, a 
ringing in my ears, and a tingling sensation in the 
fingers ; but the gates remained locked together, in 

56 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


spite of the vigorous shaking I gave them to test the 
effect of the shot. I hastened back to my saddle 
and got my other pistol. This time there must be 
no failure. Every moment given to Sir Alfred 
robbed me of a chance of capturing him. I did not 
believe he had left ; for if he had, the porter would not 
have acted so strangely. A weary ride of over forty 
miles, and then have our game escape us just as we 
arrived at the gate ! No, no ; the lock must burst 
this time. I put my whole will into the shot. It 
could not fail. I aimed the pistol at an angle, so 
that it pointed in the direction in which the bolt 
should go. Very carefully I fired, that I might not 
displace the muzzle. A crash ! — the pistol flew out 
of my hands ; burnt powder blew into my face ; 
I gave the gates a shake, then another, and at the 
third attempt they swung slowly open. ’Twas 
fortunate they were not barred, or we should have 
been forced to abandon our horses, climb the wall, 
and make our way to the house on foot, which would 
have consumed much time, and would have left us 
in a position in which we should have been unable 
to pursue the fugitives in case they already should 
have left. 

“ Quick, Toby, my horse ! ” I called, snatching up 
the pistol 1 had dropped. 

In a moment he was at my side. I sprang into 
the saddle, clapped spurs to the poor beast’s tender 
sides, and galloped up the drive with all possible 
speed, my companions at my heels. This drive was, 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


as I have said, winding ; but this condition lasted 
only a little way ; for when we had thundered across 
a bridge the path divided, one branch running to the 
left, the other to the right, both circling round a 
series of terraces, upon the topmost of which a 
stately mansion stood. We took the right, dashing 
ahead along the circling, ever-rising drive. N ow 
we could see the whole front and left wing of the 
house. . . . Still no sign of life. 

“This way!” I cried, and swung to the right, 
that we might make a complete circle around the 
place. Down the left wing we went, past little 
casements and great bow windows, turned to the 
left again, round the corner and — almost crashed 
against a coach, into which a man of about fifty 
was hastily handing a lady. The driver already was 
in his seat, and two mounted and armed men stood 
by the rear wheels. 

Instantly confusion reigned. The guards — they 
were the chairmen of the night before — drew their 
pistols and faced us boldly. The coachman, in his 
excitement forgetting that his master was not yet 
in the coach, lashed his horses and started off, almost 
throwing the gentleman to the earth. 

“ Quick, Toby, the carriage ! ” I cried. But he 
had not waited for his cue. He was off the moment 
the coach had started. The guards levelled their 
pistols and shouted to him to halt. He gave a 
whoop and rode still faster. Now he was directly 
in front of them. Shots rang out, but Toby rode on 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


unharmed. At the moment of their fire he had 
thrown himself upon his horse’s neck ; the bullets 
passed harmlessly over his back; and before the 
guards could recover from their surprise he was past 
them, was beside the running coach-horses and 
reaching for their reins. The crowd of servants in 
the background (at their head stood the surly 
porter), myself and my followers thought of nothing 
but the exciting race between my little friend and 
the coachman. Several fruitless attempts Toby 
made to seize the leader’s bit. . . . Then at last he 
had it — and a cheer went up from seven parched 
throats. ... Sir Charles was silent. 

“ In the King’s name, put up your weapons,” I com- 
manded, turning to Sir Alfred’s men. 

They hesitated, looked nervously at their master, 
but slowly lowered the points of their pistols. 

“ Put up your arms, my men,” Sir Alfred said 
quietly. “We are not attacked by robbers, as you 
have good excuse to think. That these gentlemen 
feared to miss me is doubtless the reason for their 
so startling appearance. Ah ! Sir Charles Hawley, 
as I live!” he cried with seeming surprise and an 
attempt at pleasure. “ ’Tis fortunate you arrived 
when you did ; I was about to set out for the house 
of a friend, there to spend the night.” And he un- 
covered and flourished his hat after the most ap- 
proved fashion. 

The growing darkness partially concealed the 


59 


Mark Everard 


$ 


* 


young officer’s embarrassment, as he made answer 
to this greeting. 

The coach now was drawing near, Toby riding at 
the horses’ heads and leading them slowly. 

I dismounted and approached Sir Alfred. 

“ And you, Sir ? ” said he, facing me haughtily, 
his eyebrows raised in what was meant to be most 
withering surprise, “I think I have not had the 
honour of meeting you before.” 

“ For which I crave your pardon, Sir. ’Tis no 
fault of mine, I assure you. I did my best, Sir, but 
I tripped on that confounded corpse, you see, and 
before I could rise we had become separated.” And 
with my gauntlet I flicked the dust from my boot- 
tops. 

He started as though I had dealt him a blow. 
For a moment he stood silent, then he seemed to 
pull himself together, as though to face the matter 
out boldly. “ And what is your errand here, Sir ? ” 
he snapped. 

“ I come from the King, who wishes to thank you 
for the present you made him.” 

“ Present ? ” he puzzled. 

“ Your sword,” I smiled. 

Sir Alfred started. " Is that all ? ” he asked 
coldly. 

“ And I came also to see that you do not commit 
the indiscretion that I am just in time to prevent — 
namely, your going abroad. The King fears for 
your health, Sir, and has sent me to you that you 

6o 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


may not lack companionship daring your indisposi- 
tion. Until your physician — the King — shall direct 
otherwise, you must not, under any circumstances, 
endanger your life by leaving your estate.” 

“ Cease your buffoonery, Sir ! Do you mean to 
say that I am under arrest ? ” 

“ ’Tis a rough way of putting it, for that’s what 
we say of thieves ; but if it’s more to your liking, 
why, then, we will so name it.” 

“ Doubtless you have a warrant ? ” 

“ Doubtless, Sir.” 

“ Mayhap you will be kind enough to permit me 
to see it ? ” 

“I will, Sir, provided you take me to a light.” 

He seemed not inclined to ask me to enter the 
house, for he sent a servant for a lanthorn. When 
this was come I held the warrant whilst he with 
trembling finger traced along each line. 

“ And my daughter ? ” he gasped, when he had 
done. “ My God ! is England come to be worse 
than France ? ” 

“ Hush, Sir,” I said softly in his ear, holding the 
document between my face and Sir Charles ; “ be 
careful what words you use ; they may be brought 
to face you.” 

He turned and eyed me in wonder, his expression 
showing half suspicion and half confidence. 

“ Give me your word of honour as a gentleman 
and a soldier that neither you nor your daughter 
will leave your house without first warning me, and 

61 


Mark Everard 


* 


It 


I will see to it that you shall not be put to greater 
inconvenience than is necessary,” I went on in the 
same low tone. 

“ Why do you speak thus, as though you were my 
friend, though ’tis but a moment since you insulted 
me ? ” he asked quietly. 

“ Because I have a mystery to unravel ; not for 
any kindly feeling I bear you. What do you say ? 
Are my terms acceptable ? ” 

“ What if I should decline ? ” 

“ You and your daughter shall be placed under 
guard night and day.” 

“ Then I accept.” 

“ I also give you this advice. Do not under any 
circumstances place the smallest trust in your ac- 
quaintance, Sir Charles Rawley, yonder.” 

Sir Alfred gave me a lightning glance from the 
corner of his eye. 

“You think he can be trusted because of what he 
knows of this matter.” I was trying a chance shot. 
It struck home. Sir Alfred stared at me in wonder. 

“ Remember what I have said. I have asked no 
questions. I merely have put you on your guard. I 
repeat : ’tis from no liking I bear you ; but I now 
am assured that there is more in this whole affair 
than some of the principals think.” 

“ What is it, father ? ” asked a soft, sweet voice 
beside us. 

I felt inclined to tell a lie, as I turned and saw 
her noble form and face softly outlined in the 

62 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


lanthorn light, her eyes wide with anxiety, her lips 
apart in fear ; but her father prevented me. He 
knew his daughter’s ‘nature well. 

“ We are now under arrest, my dear, by order of 
the King. 1 have given my word to Master Everard, 
here, that neither you hor I will make any attempt 
to leave our house without first warning him.” 

The maiden turned to me, her eyes flashing with 
indignation, her lip curled in scorn ; but he put his 
hand upon her arm. 

“ Hush, Virginia ; give this gentleman no insult. 
’Tis by his courtesy we are not placed under guard. 
He is but doing his duty.” 

“ And is it because I ? ” 

“ Silence, Virginia ! ’Tis by the King’s com- 
mand.” 


63 


CHAPTER IV. 


Having retired an hour after supper on the night 
of my arrival at Heron Hall, I was refreshed suf- 
ficiently to be stirring by sunrise next morning. 

The ever-awake Toby knocked at my door 
almost at the moment my foot touched the floor. 

“ Are we the first to be risen ? ” I asked, as I 
admitted him. 

“ The servants have been about for some little 
time, Sir. But Jthey’re doing nothing but humming 
like a swarm of bees. One would think I was the 
Devil himself, from the way they have watched me. 
We’ll be mighty lucky if we get any breakfast this 
morning, Sir ; they’re so excited and frightened by 
our coming that ’twill take them until noon at least 
to get down to work.” 

“ So much the better, Toby ; their delay will give 
us time to take a look about the place. ’Tis neces- 
sary that we become familiar with it, for who knows 
that we shall not have need of our knowledge before 
we leave ? And besides, Toby, I think it well that 
we should have a confidential talk.” 

Toby said nothing. He cocked his head and gave 
me a sharp, quick glance from the corner of his eye, 
then smiled gently, and held the door wide while I 
went out. 


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Mark Everard 






As we passed the right front corner of the man- 
sion, on our way to a winding path bordered with 
fresh green and fantastically-trimmed bushes, we 
suddenly came upon the fellow that had refused us 
admission at the gates the night before. For that I 
bore him no malice. No, not for that ; but he had 
a face that made me hate him, though for why I 
could not tell. ’Twas not over ugly, but there was 
an expression in his dead black eyes that reminded 
me of a drowsy snake, and prompted me to crush 
him. There was nothing spiteful nor bold in his 
look, but it seemed to possess a kind of dead deviltry, 
as though a fiend reposed behind a masque of lifeless 
flesh. His movements were slow and awkward, and 
his expression never changed from its natural scowl. 
Though I almost knocked against him, he neither 
paused nor started, but merely turned his bloodless 
face toward me and passed on, without even alter- 
ing his course. 

“ Zounds ! my fine fellow, you are possessed of 
an abundance of impudence and ill manners. Know 
you not that you should stand aside while a gentle- 
man passes, and not thrust yourself thus rudely 
across his path ? ” I demanded. 

“ Ay, I do,” he replied slowly, as he came to a 
halt and turned but half toward me. 

“ Then remember to do it in future. And hark ! ” 
I called, as he turned again to go. “ Whenever you 
have occasion to speak to me again, add Sir to what 
you may have to say. X may find it necessary to 

5 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


£ive more lessons in manners before I leave 

O 

here.” 

As I spoke the last word he started off down the 
circling drive toward the gate. 

“ ’Twould give me rare pleasure to toast that liz- 
ard on a sword-point,” Toby growled, as he stepped 
into the path. 

“ It looks as though we are to have our hands 
full ere we shall have finished this business, Toby. 
What think you of the men the King has sent to 
assist us ? ” 

“ I found out that they have all served under the 
Little Duke, Sir, Sir Charles with the rest.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! Worse than I had thought, though not 
much. I discovered yesterday that Sir Charles is 
in the plot. Something tells me this Sir Alfred is 
the dupe of more daring conspirators. If I could 
but get a clue as to what their real plans are, we 
might have a good chance to defeat them. Until 
we do get that information, Toby, my man, we are 
fighting in the dark. Yes, I hate mightily to 
admit it, but I see no key yet.” 

“ Well, Sir, I just got a sight of it now, and in 
a minute you’ll see it too, Sir.” He chuckled 
softly. 

Was it possible Toby was jesting? I never had 
known him to make light of a serious matter before. 
And where was this key to the situation, of which 
he spoke so knowingly? I confess I was on the 
verge of being annoyed somewhat, as I asked him 

66 


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4 


4 


what the key was, which he so suddenly had dis- 
covered, and which had escaped my eyes. 

The little man put his linger to his lip, held his 
left hand upon his hilt, and keeping as close to the 
side of the path as possible, he tiptoed along, beckon- 
ing me to follow. For a half-score paces we went 
thus, then he craned his neck carefully, as he leaned 
far out and glanced round a gentle bend. “ There 
it is, Sir, or I don’t know my sword from a soup- 
ladle,” he whispered. 

I followed his example, and leaned round the 
corner cautiously. For a moment I stared with 
open mouth, then retreated a pace and faced my 
servant, whose eyes were dancing with amusement. 
His mustaches were twirled in satisfaction. 

“ So you think that is the key ? ” I asked, half- 
smiling. “ Are you sure it is not something of more 
importance ? Don’t you think the real plot is at 
Whitehall?” 

“Yes, Sir, I think the real plot is at Whitehall, 
but I think most of the work will be done here.” 

“And how about the Queen ? ” 

“ She has played her part, Sir, I think.” 

This seemed of sufficient weight to warrant me in 
giving a few pulls at my upper lip. Toby had made 
a good point. He almost had changed my opinion 
as to the plans of the conspirators. I knew from 
experience that Toby could see through a tolerably 
thick fog ; therefore his opinion was of importance. 
True, ’twas worthy of deep consideration, yet I did 

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* 


not feel safe in accepting it as final. A few (toys 
more would decide definitely whether the chief 
action in this comedy (or tragedy) should take place 
at Whitehall or Heron Hall. Truth to tell, my 
own opinion began to take the same form as Toby’s, 
but I would not decide positively until I should have 
sent my messenger to the King — and received a 
reply. 

Again I peeped carefully around the corner. She 
was standing upon the farther end of a little rustic 
bridge, not more than twenty paces distant. She 
was robed in white, and stood statue-like in the 
broken morning sunbeams glancing through the 
leaves. In one hand she held a bunch of flowers, 
with the other she leaned upon the rough cedar 
railing at the bridge-side. She had no thought of 
our presence, as she gazed sadly down into the clear 
waters at her feet. As we looked she raised her 
head slowly, pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, 
then resumed her former attitude, staring at the 
brook. 

I stepped back behind the bushes, Toby following 
my example. Our eyes met. His face wore an ex- 
pression I seldom had seen it have before. His 
colour was heightened, and when he caught my eye, 
’Slife ! he did nothing less surprising than drop his 
lids, as though in shame. True, he tried for a mo- 
ment to bluster it off, for carefully he pulled up one 
boot-top and then the other, as though their position 
was of the greatest consequence. Then he gave a 

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* 


great twist at his mustaches, but for some unac- 
countable reason even it seemed to droop instead of 
bristle. I must confess I had something of the 
same lack of ease, myself. I know not if I showed 
it, but — well — I didn’t feel proud of myself — no, not 
a jot. Nor was Toby’s look inclined to stimulate 
my self-respect. Here was an old soldier, who for 
years had been accustomed to share in all manner 
of harsh undertakings, ashamed of his part in the 
hunting down and handing over to her persecutors 
of a poor defenceless maiden. Faith ! the affair 
had no pleasing aspect, if my orders were to be car- 
ried out. A half-score of men, backed by the King’s 
commands, engaged in the courageous undertaking 
of capturing a maiden of twenty summers ! Held 
in that light, ’tis no wonder we both blushed. But 
as I reconsidered the situation I thought less poorly 
of myself. If I had refused the commission, some one 
else would have taken it up. In that case the posi- 
tion of the lady would have been no better — doubt- 
less worse, for now, before she should be handed 
over to the King — or anj^one else — I should have 
full knowledge of the plot centred at Whitehall, 
and would have a good care that my servant should 
not have occasion again to blush for his master. 
I decided that he was deserving of a pat upon the 
back, which I at once administered. 

“ Toby, my man,” I smiled, “ you have misjudged 
me. But I am glad of it, for now I have discovered 
of what stuff you are made. You think we have 

69 


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4 


fallen somewhat because we are instruments in the 
persecution of this poor lady.” (The little man 
fidgeted uneasily.) “But there, Toby, is where you 
wrong me. I admit I fell somewhat in my own 
estimation when it occurred to me that we were the 
persecutors. But we are not, Toby ; no, I’ll see the 
King and all in hell before I’ll take up the work of 
catching mistresses for him! But remember this 
also: there are these plots to unravel. If I find 
that this lady is the innocent victim of those knaves 
at Whitehall, she shall not be handed over to the 
King. But remember, my man, we have a most 
difficult part to play. I took up the King’s com- 
mission, not for gold this time, but because I thought 
we were the only two men in England capable of 
seeing fair play. I have not over-estimated our 
task ; we shall have work yet in this affair as diffi- 
cult as any we ever have had, or I have not read the 
signs aright. Watch night and day, Toby, and re- 
member, you never shall have cause to blush for 
your master, so long as that master is Mark Everard.” 

“ Oh, Sir, it wasn’t that,” he stammered. “ Don’t 
think that of me, Sir ! I — I didn’t like to see you 
mixed up with a woman ; that was all, Sir. You 
know this is the first time we have had to catch a — 
young woman, — and I, — well, Sir, you know how 
these kings soon make devils of them, Sir — even of 
the best of them, Sir. You know we’ve always 
somehow kept out of such scrapes — and I — well, I 
thought it might bring — bring— bad luck, if we 

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4 


started in now. Besides, Sir, she doesn’t look as 
though she ought to be mixed up in this kind of 
thing, — does she ? ” 

By this time he had almost annihilated a tender 
shrub that grew by the path, by pulling a sprout 
from it as he started each sentence. 

“ Why, that’s exactly what I say, my friend,” I 
said kindly, putting my hand upon his shoulder. 
“I meant not to hurt your feelings, Toby. The 
same thought occurred to me as did to you. Come, 
we understand the situation, and ourselves, better 
than we did. Think no more of what we each have 
said ; we shall require all our time in the successful 
carrying out of our plans. And now, if you will re- 
turn to the house and learn at what hour breakfast 
will be prepared, I shall await you at — ah, say, the 
little bridge yonder.” 

“ Yery well, Sir,” he replied, in his accustomed 
short, quick way ; — but his face wore an anxious 
expression as he started back toward the house. 

“ So little Toby has a heart, has he, with all his 
gruffness and savage visage,” I mused, as I stood 
and watched his retreating figure. “ True, I always 
have known that he would die for me, but I never 
dreamed that he could be troubled with sentiment 
like this. And yet, Tvhen he first spied her on the 
bridge he laughed, as though her capture was amus- 
ing. Strange ! It must have been her weeping \ 
Bah ! tears are the cause of more mistakes than 
wine. Toby, Toby, my boy, you must stop such 

7i 


Mark Everard 


* 


nonsense. Zounds ! if this tenderness of heart 
should become a permanent affliction with you, I 
should be turned into a housewife, my cloak changed 
for a shawl, and my hand, made hard by years of 
swordsmanship, should then be softened, so to stitch 
with silk. No, Toby ; a heart is a mighty bad 
thing for our business. You must kill it, Toby ; it 
never will do.” And so, grumbling, I strolled down 
to the little bridge. 

So occupied was I with these thoughts that I did 
not raise my eyes from the path until I stepped 
upon the bridge, and then ’twas with a start, as I 
remembered Mistress Heron. Great was my sur- 
prise to find that she had gone. I stood alone on 
the rustic structure ; the maiden had disappeared. 
Nor could she be seen along the path on the other 
side. “ She must have gone while Toby and I were 
talking,” I thought, leaning upon the slender rail- 
ing, and peering into the little brook. “ She must 
be warned against this wandering alone through 
the park, for who can tell if this Sir Charles would 
not dare to have her disappear ? It could easily be 
done, and the blame would rest on me. You must 
stop your strolling, Mistress Heron, or I shall be 
compelled to lock you up, or send Toby with you 
on your walks.” I moved a few paces farther, fol- 
lowing the movements of a fair-sized fish, which 
glided cautiously along near the bottom of the 
stream, his nose pointing to the sand, his head turned 
to one side, as though he sought for worms. Be- 


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♦ 


* 


hind him went a score of little ones, following their 
leader’s every move. If he turned his head to the 
right, they immediately followed his lead ; if to the 
left, the same ; and even when he nibbled at a bit 
of rock — confound the little idiots ! — but they did 
likewise. 

“ Whitehall ! ” I laughed. There goes the King, 
indolent as the devil, yet nibbling at everything ; and 
after him the Court, made up of smaller fish, apeing 
his every act. Gad ! Heron Hall is well up in the 
fashion ; even the fishes follow the example of the 
martyr’s son.” 

“ Ha ! what is this ? Crumbs, eh ! So that is the 
attraction that has drawn the little Court. So, so, 
Mistress Heron, this is what brought you to the 
rustic bridge so early. You encourage this royal 
pomp and luxury. Have a care, have a care, Madam, 
that you become not a crumb yourself, a crumb for 
that of which this is a miniature reproduction. I ad- 
mit, ’tis a pretty toy, but the principle is dangerous, 
most dangerous, for one in your circumstances.” 

The King and his Court darted under the bridge. 
“ Some new attraction, eh ! ” I stepped to the other 
side, leaned over — started and stared, feeling mighty 
foolish the while ; for there stood the lady herself, 
upon a broad stone that formed a platform at the 
water’s edge. She was turned partly from me, as 
though caught in the act of making her escape. 
She was motionless, however, when 1 saw her, as 
though resolved to show no sign of fear. Fright- 

73 


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♦ 


ened she was, though, beyond a doubt, for her 
attitude belied her look of fearless indignation. 

Like a flash, everything that I had said whilst on 
the bridge ran through my mind, and made me 
think I must have shouted it. 

“I wonder how much she heard ?” I worried. 
“ Every word, I am positive,” answered some ma- 
licious devil within me. “ Come, be a man, and face 
it boldly out,” I whispered to my resolution ; and 
with a smile that a leech might well have treated, I 
raised my hat and made an awkward bow. 

For a moment she stood irresolute. Then she 
faced me savagely, her hands clenched tightly and 
her toe beating quickly upon the stone. Her 
head she held high, which told me she was still most 
heartily afraid, no matter what brave words she 
might use. As to what the words would be, I was 
not left long in doubt. 

“ So, Sir, ’tis not enough that you should take 
possession of our home and turn it into a barrack 
for your men, but you must needs come spying upon 
your prisoner, insulting her with your loud-spoken 
soliloquies. Why do you stand watching me ? Do 
you fear I shall break my father’s parole ? Have I 
not had enough of injury ? Will not you leave 
me ? ” She stamped her foot like a deer at bay. 

“ But, Madam, I swear ” 

“Yes, Sir, I have heard you,” she interrupted, 
and turned her back to me. 

“ Zooks ! the little savage ! ” I winced. “ And 

74 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


she has wit too.” I smiled at the way she had cut 
short my protestations. The smile brought with it 
a return of confidence. ’Twould never do to permit 
a woman to worst me. True, my knowledge of the 
sex was limited, for I never had considered them of 
sufficient importance to give their peculiarities 
minute attention. This one, however, seemed differ- 
ent from others of her kind. She seemed worthy of 
consideration. I now should give her some fatherly 
advice, — if she would let me speak without inter- 
ruption. It was necessary to manage her cautiously, 
of that I was now convinced. She was an un- 
broken colt, with a mighty bad temper. Gentleness 
would do more than spur. 

I started toward her end of the bridge. , 

“ Stop, Sir ! ” 

I stopped. 

“ Don’t come near me ! Go back the other way ! ” 
Again she was the indignant goddess. 

Now my resolutions were good, and I fully had 
resolved to put up with her whims until I should get 
an opportunity to warn her against the habit of 
frequenting these comparatively solitary places ; 
but there always has been something in my nature 
that seems never to agree with direct orders. In 
this case, her orders and this “ something” had diffi- 
culty at their first meeting, the result of which was, 
that I had to settle the matter by a compromise, 
which brought me to a halt, but did not turn me 
back. 


75 


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4 


4 


“Madam,” I protested, again leaning upon the 
railing, “ I crave your pardon, but you do me 
wrong.” 

She raised her eyebrows, as though the matter 
were of but little consequence. 

“ I had no such base intent as you think, when I 
came to this spot. ’Twas chance, purely, that 
brought me here. I knew not of your presence.” 

“ You know now, Sir, and yet you seem not 
inclined to respect my wishes.” 

“ You will not permit me to explain.” 

“ I have heard your explanation.” 

“ But now I wish to give you some advice.” My 
temper here began to exercise an influence. 

“ I have a father to whom I look for guidance.” 

“Ay, and thanks to his advice yoti find yourself 
in your present perilous circumstances.” 

“ I bow to your wisdom, Sir, which shows itself 
in the prudence you display in saying those words 
to me, not to my father.” 

I swore softly to myself. 

“ This, then, is my advice, Madam — yea, I must 
make it a command, since you will not heed it 
otherwise : These walks through the park, without 
protection, must cease. There is danger in it. Your 
peril now is great enough ; but every time you come 
to these places you increase your danger twofold.” 

“ How can I be in danger when so securely 
guarded ? ” she sneered. 

“ ’Twere more suitable, I think, Madam, to treat 

7 6 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


them that wish you well with less scorn and more 
consideration.” 

“ I thank you, Sir ; but when I meet my friends 
I shall know how to treat them.” 

“ You doubtless have reason to regard me with 
suspicion, because of the office I now fill. But I 
warn you, before many days shall have passed you 
may have to rely on the sword of Mark Everard as 
your only salvation. I may mistake, but, verily, I 
believe what I say will prove true. The odds will 
be greatly against me. Desperate measures may 
have to be resorted to. I have nothing to gain by 
taking up this matter. I may fail. But whether I 
shall be successful or not, I think you then will find 
no fault with the advice I have given you this 
morning.” 

Her head gradually bent while I spoke, and when 
I had finished, she glanced up cautiously, her head 
held to one side. I could see she had difficulty in 
understanding my words, for her look showed half 
belief and half suspicion. She said nothing for 
several moments, but I did not think it well to add 
to what I already had told her. Presently she 
stooped and picked a fragment of bread from the 
stone platform, where doubtless it had fallen when 
I startled her. She stepped slowly to the water’s 
edge and started to break the bread into particles 
and to scatter them upon the surface, where in- 
stantly they were seized by hungry little mouths 
and borne below. 


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4 


4 


I stood still, idly dramming my fingers upon the 
railing, and wondering what next to expect from 
this erratic prisoner, who treated her poor captor 
with so ljttle respect. 

“There, do you see that large one?” she smiled, 
turning up one side of her face. “ I call him Julius, 
because he looks so much like our porter. It was 
Julius that wouldn’t let you in, last night,” she 
explained. 

Was ever anything more difficult to comprehend? 
Under the circumstances, one would think a fish the 
last thing to which her thoughts would turn. But 
that, I suppose, is the very reason why I should not 
have been surprised. 

I stood undecided for a moment, half-frowning, 
half-smiling, and then, remembering my determina- 
tion to humour her, and not being able to see 
this worthy fish from where I stood, — well, I went 
down to the stone platform — grumbling to myself 
the while — and tried to get a peep at the little Julius. 

“ Oh ! now you have frightened him away ! ” she 
reproached. “ ’Twas the noise of those spurs,” she 
added, pointing to the offending decorations. 

She seemed more concerned about the flight of 
the fish than she had been when I told her of her 
danger. 

“ Now keep very still,” she cautioned, her annoy- 
ance passing as quickly as it had come. “ He is 
timid with strangers, and may require some coaxing, 
before he will return.” 


78 


Mark Everard 


I did as directed, while she broke more crumbs 
and dropped them carefully, one by one, into the 
water. ’Twas the first time I stood on the same 
level beside her, in the daylight, and I now had an 
opportunity to notice that she was not tall, as I had 
thought her. My impression that she was tall must 
have been formed by comparison with the Queen, 
who was much below the middle height ; for now, 
as she stood dropping the crumbs, I could see she 
was little, if any, above the middle stature. 

“There he is. Be careful not to frighten him. 
Is not the resemblance striking ? ” she smiled. 

“ ’Tis the King,” I murmured inaudibly. Then 
aloud I said : “ There is a resemblance, I admit ; 
but surely the real Julius should feel flattered by 
the comparison. The fish looks more pleasant, I 
think.” 

She laughed. 

I picked up a bit of the bread and, breaking it into 
yet smaller particles, dropped them slowly into the 
water at the edge of the stone. 

J ulius came fearfully along, his head bent to one 
side, that he might keep his eye on me. 

“ Now the eyes of the two Juliuses are very sim- 
ilar, though I favour the expression in those of this 
one. The mouths of both seem to have a tendency 
to greater development, though apparently without 
reason. Both are blessed with the same complexion 
— olive, would you call it ? But ’tis when we come to 
compare their movements that the fish has the greater 

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It 


It 


advantage. He is the embodiment of grace, whereas 
the other, I fear, is somewhat deficient in the quality. 
So you will see, when we sum up their respective 
points of merit, that this Julius has a considerable 
advantage.” 

“ I fear you are not an impartial judge, Sir.” She 
regarded me in half-amusement. “ You bear malice 
against the human Julius because he refused you 
admittance. That is not right, or, at least, ’tis not 
strictly judicial.” 

“ Oh, Madam, I protest ! ” 

“ Then why do you not consider his virtues before 
pronouncing judgment ? ” 

“ And is he possessed of virtues ? ” 

“ By that question you stand convicted ; you con- 
fess that you have not looked for them. Yirtues? 
Indeed he has many. Was it not a virtue to refuse 
to admit a band of armed strangers to the home of 
his master, even though they threatened his life ? 
He would die for me, Sir.” 

“ Oh ! would he?” I thought. “Well, from the 
appearance of things he will not lack opportunity 
for long, I should judge. And I hope he will not 
permit it to pass him.” Aloud I merely said: 
“ But, Madam, we were comparing only their ap- 
pearances, not merits.” 

“Ah! you have halted and are intrenching, Sir.” 

“ The fruit of experience, Madam. I am an old 
soldier.” 

I had a few crumbs left and these I was in the 

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act of dropping to the little Julius and his followers, 
when I heard a gruff “ Ahem ! ” Looking up I be- 
held Toby at the other side of the stream, leaning 
upon the end of the bridge-rail. His face was stern 
as ever, but his eyes were dancing with amusement. 
I dropped the remaining crumbs as though they had 
been coals of fire. “ The little devil ! ” I swore in- 
wardly. “ Why could he not have whistled as he 
came, or made a jingle with his spurs ? I must give 
Toby a lesson. To find me in this ridiculous position ! 
— feeding fish, like a schoolboy! ” I could have 
drowned the little rascal, if he had been beside me. 
Had it been any one but Toby, I should not have 
cared ; but to have Toby, who thought all wisdom 
centred in me, find me playing with fishes, and 
talking nonsense to a maiden, when I should have 
been devising ways for the carrying out of my plans, 
was more than I could bear with any sense of com- 
fort. 

“ Well, Toby, what is it?” I asked with as good 
a show of amiability as I could command. 

“ You told me to inform you when your breakfast 
was prepared, Sir. It is now ready, Sir.” At this 
moment his eyes left mine and glanced quickly to 
some point behind and to one side of where we stood. 

I turned and looked in the same direction, but 
saw only the path, the trees and bushes ; and when 
I faced Toby again, he was no longer gazing beyond 
me, but pulled at his mustaches and stared intently 
al the water. 

6 


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* 


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“ Is your servant as savage as he looks ? ” Mis- 
tress Heron asked, as we went up the three steps 
from the broad stone to the bridge. 

66 Nay, nay, Madam ; fear him not ; ’tis but his 
manner. There is no better heart in England.” I 
had forgiven the little rascal already. 

Toby advanced a pace to meet us, and as I passed 
he touched me lightly on the arm. 

I asked pardon of the lady, and stopped with 
Toby at the end of the bridge, whilst she walked on 
without comment or apparent notice. 

“ Well, Toby ? ” 

He raised his arm and pointed in the direction of 
the house, while in a low voice he said : “ Don’t 

look behind us, Sir ; there’s some one in the bushes 
a little way back of where you and the lady were 
standing when I came up.” 

“ Could you make out the face or figure ? ” I asked, 
making a motion with my hands as though I were 
giving minute instructions. 

“ No, Sir,” Toby answered, touching his hat, and 
bowing ; “ he was just drawing back among the 
bushes when I saw him. I could see nothing but 
his hat, Sir.” 

“ Try to find out who he is. Keport to me as 
soon as possible. Be careful, Toby. Don’t put 
yourself in the way of a bullet ; 'we can’t afford to 
run any risks. Don’t drive him to bay ; merely get 
a good sight of him, that you may be able to 
identify him when next you see the knave.” 

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“ Very well, Sir.” He started off, whistling gai- 
ly as he went. From his manner one would think 
he had no thought nor care ; but he realised that 
the man that spied would not hesitate to use his 
pistol, did he think it advantageous to do so. 

“ So they are following me closely already,” I 
muttered, as I hastened after the lady. “ They are 
resolved to lose no time. True, there is the pos- 
sibility of its being that accursed Julius; but I 
think it was not. If I could but tell what the 
result will be when I send my message to White- 
hall, I then should have the game in my own hands. 
As it is, I’m helpless, yes, helpless. But that mes- 
sage shall go to-day, if I have to let Sir Charles 
himself take it. After that, ’twill not be long ere 
we all shall know what parts we each must play. 
The odds, I doubt not, will be long ; but Gad ! 
Toby and I will play our hands out, win or lose.” 
Just then I turned the corner, and found myself 
but a few paces behind the stake in this exciting 
game. “ Zounds ! she’s worth it,” I thought. “ How 
if I were ten years ” 

She heard my jingling step, turned, eyed me in 
cold surprise, and walked on with quickened 
step. 

“Bah! No, she is too haughty,” I concluded, 
and blushed for what I almost had said. 


83 


CHAPTER Y. 


“ If I have to send Sir Charles himself.” These 
words that I had spoken without meaning started 
ringing in my ears, as I slowly crossed the lawn on 
my way to the main entrance of the house. With 
every step I took they were repeated. 

I came to an abrupt halt by the sun-dial. 

“ Why not send Sir Charles ? ” I asked myself. 
“ What advantage is it to me to have him here ? 
Hone. Ho, he is worse than useless ; he is a con- 
stant menace ; and if he were absent, his men would 
be without a leader. But will he go ? I wonder. 
Ha ! there’s the question. He might with safety 
refuse, being backed as he is by his seven men. Still, 
should he refuse, he knows that I should report him 
to the King, which might endanger the plans of his 
superiors ; and that he dare not risk. I’ll try him,” 
I concluded. “ Let him defy me, and I’ll doff the 
silken glove and show a hand of steel.” 

Toby came quickly up the drive, whistling as 
when last I had seen him. He glanced carelessly 
in my direction, but passed on across the lawn to- 
ward the rear of the house without changing his 
course. 

“Ho! Toby I ” I called. 


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He halted, faced about, and came quickly toward 
me, smart and soldierly. 

“ Well, Toby ? ” 

“Yes, Sir. Two of them. Two the oldest. They 
stood on the bridge and talked a little, then followed 
you up the path, Sir.” 

“ Good ! Good ! See that they get no opportu- 
nity to speak privately with any of their comrades. 
Keep with them, Toby. I shall attend to Sir 
Charles.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“And, Toby,” I said as he turned to go, “re- 
member that you must above all things else avoid 
a quarrel.” 

“ Yes, Sir.” He hastened on toward the serv- 
ants’ quarters. 

I chuckled softly, as I thought of my plan for 
ridding myself of embarrassment for a day at least. 

“ What could be more in contrast than this coun- 
try paradise and the intrigue and treachery now 
going on within it ? ” I thought, as I cast my eye 
over the splendid mansion and its truly beautiful 
surroundings. “Trees and shrubs, drives, walks 
and streams, flowers and pure air ; and through all 
the whistle of the robin and the hum of bees. 
Zooks ! why did she ever go to Court ? Who but a 
fool could here feel discontent ? Still, mayhap ’tis 
better so,” I added. And then with a quicker step 
started for breakfast. 

In the main hall I met Sir Alfred and Sir Charles, 

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walking side by side. Both seemed embarrassed 
when they saw me ; but I showed no surprise, and 
passed the time of day pleasantly. My manner 
seemed to reassure them ; and together we entered 
the breakfast-room, Sir Alfred playing the host as 
freely as though not a prisoner. 

“ I sent to your room some little time since, Mas- 
ter Everard,” he said, “ that I might show you about 
the park, but found that you had forestalled me. 
However, if you will accompany me after breakfast, 
I think I yet can take you to some spots that will 
delight your eye. I have my favourite haunts, in 
which I spend much of my time when at home. We 
live simply here, Master Everard, as country people 
should, I think ; for what is country life, if one 
must be tormented with a host of servants, strict 
city fashions, and the duties of a Court ? Here each 
must entertain himself, and feel no slight ; for every 
guest is also host.” 

“ Indeed, Sir Alfred, ’twould be a difficult task 
for any but a most turbulent spirit to feel not at 
home in such a place of beauty. ’Tis difficult to 
understand why one that lives here ever could be 
tempted to desert it for the life of a Westminster 
or London.” 

His colour heightened, but with a smile he said : 
“ One is not always master of one’s circumstances, 
Sir, as you no doubt well know. Were I to gratify 
my inclinations, I should not leave my books, glasses 
and globes. But unlucky chance may be the cause 

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of placing us in positions in which we are forced to 
forego our greatest desires. These circumstances 
may not be denied, so, Zounds ! we may as well 
smile as frown when we bow to them ; and regret 
never yet has been known to change a fact.” He 
laughed good-humouredly, as though his discomforts 
were amusing. Truly, either Sir Alfred had the 
instincts of the philosopher or he was a mighty 
good actor ; at that moment I did not know which. 

Sir Charles seemed to lack ease somewhat, and as 
I had thought enough to keep me occupied, our 
repast was finished without further conversation, 
except for an occasional word from Sir Alfred, who 
seemed bent on being cheerful, despite his uncom- 
fortable situation. 

As we left the table, I excused myself for not just 
then accepting of the kindness my prisoner had 
offered to show in taking me over the place, by 
explaining that I had some urgent affairs to transact 
with Sir Charles, which should not be delayed. 

“ Permit me not to interfere with your plans, Sir. 
Later I shall have the pleasure,” he smiled, bowing 
as I turned to leave the room. 

My eye fell upon a large mirror hanging beside 
the door, in which I caught a glimpse of him, 
glancing furtively, with eyebrows raised, in the 
direction of Sir Charles. 

I took no apparent notice of this conduct, but 
passed out of the room with the young gentleman 
by my side, leaving my prisoner alone. 

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The situation seemed to wear a different, and not 
more pleasing, aspect with every moment that 
passed. Before breakfast I had come to the con- 
clusion that Sir Alfred was an innocent dupe in the 
game. Now it was evident that I had fallen into 
an error not common to me — namely, the most 
dangerous mistake of arriving at conclusions without 
awaiting the proofs. That Sir Alfred could not be 
relied on was evident. Only the night before I 
had warned him to place no trust in Sir Charles, 
and, as an earnest of my honest intentions, had 
treated him with great consideration ; and yet, here 
he was, at the first opportunity, conniving behind 
my back with the very man against whom I had 
warned him. “ Of course there is the possibility of 
his playing double with Sir Charles, not me,” I 
thought. “ If he is a coward, he will doubtless 
think it good policy to let them that have been his 
fellow-conspirators think he is still of their number, 
even though in his heart he believes they have 
betrayed him,” I argued. Can a man that acts 
thus be trusted with his parole ? ” I worried. 

At this moment we met a servant in the passage 
near my apartments. I stopped him and sent him 
for paper, pens and ink. I had decided. Sir Charles 
should go to London. Sir Alfred’s double dealings 
should not alter my plans ; for if they were plotting 
against me, ’twas better that they should be forty 
miles apart than together at my elbow. My prisoner 
might intend to act honourably with me ; but that 

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I might think him honest, ’twas necessary to grant 
him a coward. I preferred to consider him a knave 
— a coward is so pitiable a thing. 

I swung my door open and motioned Sir Charles 
to enter first. He seemed now to see for the first 
time that I suspected him, for he at once assumed a 
careless swagger, ever the manner of youth without 
great courage wishing to pass itself off as a careless 
dare-devil. He helped himself to a chair, without 
waiting an invitation, and throwing himself into it, 
swung his foot to and fro and stared at the ceiling. 

That I might keep the boy in suspense as long as 
possible, I said nothing, and when the servant came 
with the writing materials, proceeded to write my 
report to the King without breaking the silence. 
He shifted in his seat uneasily, and cleared his 
throat at every pause I made. Doubtless he was 
preparing the speech with which he intended to 
refuse my orders — for by this time he must have 
known why I had brought him to my room. Had 
he remained still and not made his intentions so 
evident, he might have outwitted me; but as it 
was, he warned me of what to expect, so I was 
prepared. As I finished the brief report, which 
told shortly of how I had' arrived at Heron Hall 
the previous night, and had placed Sir Alfred Heron 
under arrest, as commanded — omitting mention of 
his being caught in the attempt to escape — and 
informing his Majesty that I desired another officer 
to be sent me in place of Sir Charles Bawley— one 

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4 


4 


in whom one would place absolute trust — as 
bearer of the King’s further commands, I called the 
lieutenant sharply. 

It took him by surprise. “ Yes, Sir,” he replied 
smartly, springing to his feet with soldierly prompt- 
ness. 

“You are to start at once for Whitehall,” I said, 
sealing the packet carefully in several places, using 
my signet ring with a great show of caution. 

“But it is impossible ” he began, his fore- 

planned bluster coming to his rescue. 

“ Not at all, I assure you.” 

“ Why, how ? ” 

“ Upon your horse, to be sure. How else could 
you hope to travel ? ” 

He grew more confused. “ But I shall be needed 
here,” he grumbled. 

“ Indeed I agree with you — I do need you here, 
but the King’s commands may not be ignored.” 

“ One of the men should be sent,” he said, with 
his ludicrous swagger. 

“ Again I agree with you, but unfortunately the 
King has ordered otherwise.” 

“ How — when ? ” he stammered. 

“ His Majesty commanded me to send a report to 
him, so soon as I had effected the capture of Sir 
Alfred, by the officer that he should send with me. 
You are the officer he sent, therefore you are the 
only person authorised to bear the despatch.” 

I rose and handed him the packet. 

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Mark Everard 


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He put out his hand unwillingly, as though he 
feared the wax might burn him. His bluster was 
gone, but still he hesitated, searching for some last 
excuse, for all the world like a schoolboy trying to 
avoid his chastisement. “When shall I leave ? ” he 
asked presently. 

“ Why, Sir Charles, you seem dull of compre- 
hension this morning. I already have said — at 
once.” 

“ I have not my spurs, cloak, nor gauntlets,” he 
sulked. 

“ Quite so ; and you need them. I shall accom- 
pany you while you get them, Sir Charles.” 

He glanced at me hatefully, shrugged his shoul- 
ders and turned to the door. 

“ Oh ! Sir Charles,” I said, as we passed out, 
“there is one thing that I almost forgot to mention 
to you. ’Tis the fact that the King has a copy of 
my signature and seal. The knowledge may save 
you an unpleasant experience.” 

He started as though I had stabbed him, turned 
white, then scarlet, and trembled as with ague. 
“You shall pay dearly for your insult, Sir. You 
now are safe in your position, and may strike at 
your pleasure, but your time is short. You shall 
answer to me, Sir; yes, and before many days shall 
have passed, Master Everard.” 

“ ’Od’s blood ! how shocking ! how shocking ! ” 

“ Oh, curse you ! ” he hissed with boyish temper, 
and strode hastily along the passage to bis own 

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room ; while I followed, chuckling softly at his 
fearful threats, and relishing the young gentleman’s 
punishment. 

He slammed the door in my face, at which I 
swore roundly ; but remembering that 1 had naught 
to gain by losing my temper, I merely opened the 
door again and stepped within. His hand flew to 
his sword-hilt, as he wheeled and faced me in dumb 
surprise. Such insult was beyond his comprehen- 
sion. 

“ Yes, you have your sword ; ’tis your spurs you 
need, Sir Charles,” I smiled, throwing my leg across 
the corner of his table. 

“ Very well, I’ll get my spurs ; but remember, the 
faster I ride the sooner shall end your advantage. 
Give a fool authority and soon he’ll condemn him- 
self.” His hands shook with rage as he wrenched 
at the straps of his spurs. “ You’re in a larger and 
deeper pond than you think, Sir. I’m not the only 
one that you have to face ; and I’m damned if you 
shall come out of it with a whole skin ! ” He 
drew his gauntlets on with a jerk and tossed his 
cloak over his arm. 

“ Tut, tut ! Sir Charles, I fear you have turned 
gossip,” I laughed. “You are telling what I already 
knew ; but yet, I think your language indiscreet. Be 
cautious, Sir Charles ; your associates would disap- 
prove of your taking me into your confidence, I 
think. Ah ! you are ready ? Then we shall order 
your mount and escort.” 


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“ Escort ! I need none ! ” he snapped. 

“ I hope you may not have need of it, yet ’tis 
better to take precautions, and besides, I have as- 
sured the King that you shall go with a good guard, 
so that no excuse for miscarriage may be found.” 

He made no reply ; his anger seemed to choke 
him ; so he sought relief in hasty, heavy strides, and 
almost rushed from the house. 

At the men’s quarters I drew them all up, that I 
might be able to make my selection. Toby took 
his place with the others, and seemed almost a 
mite beside the lusty-looking guardsmen. 

“ You need experienced men, Sir Charles,” I said ; 
“ wherefore I select the three on the left, who seem 
to have years enough to give them caution.” 

He turned to me as though to object, but I met 
him with a smile, in which he read my reason for 
those men. He had been beaten at every point, and 
now his determination seemed to give way, and he 
offered no opposition. 

In another ten minutes they were mounted and 
riding down the drive. As they circled round the 
lower terrace, Sir Charles turned his head and 
looked back. I waved my hand to him, at which 
he drove spurs into his horse and bounded off at a 
gallop. I laughed and turned — in time to see Sir 
Alfred step back into the house through a French 
window that opened to the front. 


93 


CHAPTER VI. 


With but three of the soldiers left, I felt more 
comfortable for the time. They had no leader now 
to whom to look for instructions, and I knew they 
would not take upon themselves to act without 
orders, lest they should endanger the plans of their 
superiors. Sir Alfred was my only cause for anxiety. 
Where did he really stand in these much mixed 
affairs ? He seemed on all sides, and against all 
sides. Was there really a plot to abduct the Queen, 
or was it, as Toby thought, a blind to the real plot — 
the carrying off of his daughter? Who was the 
tall Black Masque that had escaped with Sir Alfred 
that night in the lane ? Was he but a tool, like his 
fellow that we had succeeded in taking, or a more im- 
portant person, who had not yet played his full hand ? 
The questions were perplexing, and at that time 
unanswerable. Sir Alfred was the centre of the 
wheel. What was the wisest course to take with 
him ? was the question I first had to solve. I tried 
the solution at once, by stepping to the open window 
at which I had seen him. 

“ I am glad of it, if it will prevent so shameful 
a thing happening,” came in her voice from the 
room. 

“ But it shall not prevent it. In faith, I prefer it 

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so. His departure will relieve him of all respon- 
sibility.” Sir Alfred’s voice was deep and ar- 
dent. 

“ But ’twas not to Sir Charles you gave your 
word.” 

“Bah! And what is the other? A soldier of 
fortune — a hireling.” 

“ And does that save your honour, if you break faith 
with him ? For shame, father, forget what ” 

“ Silence ! How dare you so speak to me ? 
Honour ! ’Tis to save your honour that I do it. But 
mayhap you have less care for it than I,” he 
sneered. 

There was a moment’s pause, in which I could 
picture the expression of her face. 

“ I pity you, Sir, and always shall pray to forget 
this day.” There was a world of contempt in her 
low, trembling voice. 

“ ISTo, Virginia, dear, I — I didn’t mean that.” 

“ I shall try to believe you.” 

“But come, Virginia, promise that you will go 
with me peaceably,” he coaxed. “See what I 
sacrifice for you — even your respect for me.” 

“ And all for me!” She gave a little forced 
laugh. “ What part has my Lord Cadwaller in this 
sacrifice ? Must not your Master be rewarded for 
making you his tool to serve his own unmanly 
ends?” 

“ How, the devil take you ! for your insults you 
shall go, consent or not ! Inform the low-born menial, 

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whom you so admire! You shall go, despite him! 
You have dared to defy and insult me, so now I 
shall use my authority ! I’ll crush your mother’s 
spirit in you, or I’ll crush your life ! ” 

“ Oh, how I regret that I have found you out ! 
Until to-day I always have spoken to you and of you 
with respect, and tried to respect you more than I 
felt ; but now I am undeceived ; you stand forth in 
your true colours, without honour, courage, or even 
humanity. I pity you, Sir ! — from my soul I pity 
you ! ” 

Zooks ! I should rather face Toby’s sword than 
her contempt. 

“ I think it were wiser to keep your pity for 
yourself,” he sneered. “ You may need it ere long, 
unless you learn to control that accursed tongue of 
yours. His Lordship is not blessed with such 
patience as your father’s. Yes, exercise your 
obedience, my dear. Commence by getting your 
belongings together. You shall leave here to-night : 
to-morrow you shall be in France.” 

“ France ! ” 

“ Yes, France. There we shall remain until our 
friends at Court succeed in diverting the King’s 
attention from us.” 

“ I refuse to go ! ” She stamped her foot. 

“ We shall leave this evening — remember ! ” 

A door opened, then closed with a bang, and all 
was quiet within the room. 

I tiptoed from the window, until I reached a safe 

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distance, then hastened in search of Toby, whom 
I found entertaining the three guardsmen outside 
the servants’ quarters. He had them in a roar of 
laughter, which, as I came up, suddenly subsided. 
They rose and stood at attention, while Toby 
advanced to meet me. Together we started back 
toward the house, and when we were out of ear- 
shot of the men, I told him of Sir Alfred’s treachery. 

Toby tossed his head. “ I thought he was mixed 
up in strange company for an honest man,” he 
sniffed. “ What shall we do, Sir ? ” 

“ We must go to him at once, before he has an 
opportunity to speak to the men.” 

As we turned the front corner of the house, we 
met him face to face. 

He started. “ Ah ! Master Everard,” said he, 
recovering his self-possession and forcing a smile. 

“ Ah ! Sir Alfred Heron,” I returned, smiling 
back at him broadly. 

My manner did not seem to reassure him. His 
face grew redder than ever, and his eyes looked 
past me, as he said : “ I was in search of you, Sir. 
If you have finished with your affairs, I am at your 
service, Sir, — quite at your service.” He rubbed 
each hand over the other, as though trying to wash 
them with air. 

I bowed and, still smiling, started with him 
across the lawn in front of the house, Toby 
following. 

“ May I request, Sir, that you first step with me 

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into the house ? There is something on my mind 
that I wish to tell you, lest it should escape 
me.” 

He looked at me curiously, but seeing no reason- 
able excuse for declining, he turned without a word 
and led the way to the door. In the hall he faced 
me with almost defiance, though still attempting to 
play the affable. His acting seemed nearing its 
end. 

“ Yes, Master Everard ? ” he said, forcing a sorry 
smile, while his fingers drummed restlessly upon 
the back of a chair. “ In what can I serve 
you ? ” 

I took a turn around the room before answering : 
“ By doing your duty, Sir Alfred.” 

He turned purple. “ Really, Sir, I fail to see by 
what right you speak so to me ! ” 

“ By no right, Sir Alfred — nor yet with malice.” 

“ I am in your power, and so cannot claim con- 
sideration,” he said bitterly. 

“ Honsense, Sir ! You think you are far from 
being in my power! You think I’m in yours! 
Why could you not have dealt fairly with me, Sir 
Alfred ? I gave you sufficient reason for trusting 
me.” I thought it well to let him know at once how 
matters stood. 

“ What do you mean?” he cried, glancing anx- 
iously toward the door. 

“ Toby ! ” I called gently. 

“ Yes, Sir ! ” He stood in the doorway. 

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“No one is to be permitted to pass out until I 
so order.” 

“ No, Sir ! ” The door closed. Sir Alfred sank 
into a chair. 

“ Why did you not make your escape last night ? ” 
I asked. 

“ You prevented me,” he answered, still attempt- 
ing to fence. 

“ Nay, nay ; I mean after that — when all had 
retired.” 

“ More insult ! Why, because I gave my word 
that I should not ! ” he snapped. 

“ Then why propose leaving to-night ? Does your 
word bind you for but four-and-twenty hours ? ” 

“ Spy ! ” he cried, springing to his feet. 

“ Keep your seat, Sir Alfred ; bluster will not 
help you. Yes, that is better. Now let us discuss 
the situation freely. But, in the first place, I wish 
to correct you. I did not spy on you. I saw you at 
the window, and was on my way to you, for the 
purpose of telling you that I had discovered your 
treachery, when I chanced to overhear the con- 
versation between } 7 ou and your daughter. ’Twas 
indiscreet to discuss such a matter so heatedly, but I 
assure you it made no difference, for I already had 
caught you in the act of motioning in a suspicious 
manner to Sir Charles Rawley, behind my back, in 
the morning-room, and had resolved to give you 
back your parole, lest you might break that that 
can never be mended.” 

L.ofC. 


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He wriggled in his seat, almost choking with 
shame and rage. “ Dog ! ” he gasped, “ I will split 
your heart for this ! ” 

“ I shall not quarrel with you, Sir. As I said 
before, my object in speaking as I do is not to tor- 
ment you. I merely wish to let you see the exact 
position in which we each stand. If you will answer 
my questions, you will help to remove some of your 
difficulties; if you refuse — Zooks ! the loss will be 
chiefly your own. Now why do you still trust this 
Sir Charles, after I have warned you of him? ” 

“ Well, curse your impudence ! ” he almost choked, 
sitting bolt upright, and staring at me in astonish- 
ment. “ Cannot you be insulted ? I have heard 
you are a brave man, but find you a coward ! ” 

“ You are bent on insulting yourself,” I smiled. 
“ You ran from this coward .” 

In faith, I was having a hard struggle with my 
temper, but I had resolved not to lose it. His vile 
names were hard to bear, to be sure, but it is 
scarcely creditable to sacrifice one’s determination 
for the gratifying of mere rage, therefore I gave no 
apparent heed to his insults, but continued my 
questions. 

“ Come, Sir, will you tell me the reason for your 
confidence in Sir Charles Hawley ? ” 

“ And why should I not take the word of Sir 
Charles Hawley — who is my friend — in preference to 
that of a nameless Jack, of whom I know nothing, 
who sells himself to the highest bidder? ” he sneered. 


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Mark Everard 


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“ Then you were a party to the plot to carry off 
the Queen ? I have thought otherwise.” 

“ Plot ! What plot to carry off the Queen ? ” 
His choler was giving place to anxiety. 

“If Sir Charles is your friend, ’tis strange you 
should not know.” 

“ As God’s above me, I know naught of such a 
plot ! ” His fear had overcome his indignation. 

“ You were found in strange company for one not 
to be suspected.” 

“ How ? — when ? — what company? ” he stammered. 

“ On the night of the first of May, in the lane 
north of Fleet Street, when the attempt to abduct 
her Majesty and your daughter was defeated, Sir 
Alfred. Zooks! your memory seems failing, 
Sir.” 

“ The Queen ! ” he cried. “ That was not the 
Queen ! ” He trembled with excitement. 

“ Oh, indeed ! I have been informed differently.” 

“Why, no! ’Twas a lady of the Court, to be 
sure, but not the Queen.” 

“ From whom did you get your information ? ” 

He hesitated. “From — from What’s that to 

you ? ” he broke off abruptly. 

I wondered if he was attempting to deceive me. 
He seemed sincere enough, yet I already had dis- 
covered that he was too good an actor to be judged 
by appearances. 

“ I venture to say, your daughter did not tell you 
it was not the Queen.” 


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He said nothing, but looked mighty uncom- 
fortable. 

“ No, Sir Alfred, the flight of your daughter is 
not the gravest charge that you shall have to 
answer; — ’tis the attempt on the Queen. Believe 
me, your worst enemies could wish you to make a 
no worse mistake than to flee from England at 
present. ’T would be a confirmation of your guilt.” 
“ Nonsense, Sir ! I say it was not the Queen ! ” 

“ And I say it was the Queen, Sir.” 

“ Then why was no mention made of it in your 
warrant for my arrest ? ” 

“ One charge was sufficient, and I suppose the 
King has no desire to have the incident appear in 
writing. I believe there was a scandal once before 
about a similar affair. One can quite understand 
his Shrinking from the risk of having so private a 
matter made public. Doubtless his Majesty intends 
settling it with you privately, how, I can only sur- 
mise.” 

“ Surmise ! Damn your surmisings ! ” he cried, 
springing to his feet. “ You know how he hopes to 
settle it! You — you accursed hireling! — well do 
you know his intentions ! ’Tis a lie, I believe, a lie 
of his, of your own, spinning, this story of the 
Queen ! I see it all ! He thinks he has me in his 
power, and will force me to gratify his base desires ! 
Ha ! ha ! a trick — a most palpable trick ! Ha ! ha ! 
upon my soul, ’tis laughable ! ” 

“ Yery laughable,” I put in. “ Still, I think you 

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will find it more profitable to forego your demon- 
strations of delight, and consider the matter seri- 
ously.” 

Faith, his appearance gave but little suggestion 
of humour, except so far as a very angry, badly 
frightened, stout man, past the middle age, with too 
much blood in the head, may look comical, when 
attempting to rid himself of his fear by a stimu- 
lating outburst of ridiculing bluster. 

“ Seriously ! ” he cried scornfully, pacing to and 
fro furiously. “ Ha ! ha ! I shall make it sufficient- 
ly serious for both you and your master, before you 
shall be through with this affair ! ” He paused for 
a moment and took snuff w T ith trembling fingers. 
“ Let him drive me to extremes, and I’ll bring every 
detail before Parliament ! Split me, if I’ll be dis- 
honoured by that — that — by his Majesty, or any- 
one else ! ” 

“ Ah ! that is better,” I said ; “ much better than 
fleeing, as though you acknowledged your guilt. 
Yet, ’twill mean your conviction of treason, I fear; 
for her Majesty most surely was there.” 

He halted before a window, and stared forth. 

“ But, of course, if you can rely upon the influence 
of them that shared the attack with you, ’tis pos- 
sible you may escape the extreme penalty, mayhap 
even more.” 

His hands clasped each other more tightly behind 
his back, his feet he placed farther apart, and his 
head bent forward and to one side more, as he con- 

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tinued to stare through the window. His attitude 
was more resolute. 

“Yes, I believe Lord Cadwaller might manage 
the King.” I paused to observe the effect, but he 
did not move. “ But he may meet with opposition, 
from what source, you doubtless know.” 

He turned and faced me in alarm. “What 
source? ” 

“ Tut, tut, Sir ! you well know my meaning. 
Why, the Little Duke, to be sure.” 

“ That bastard Monmouth ? ” he cried, his face 
turning almost black with rage, and his hands 
working at his band, as though he were chok- 
ing. 

“ You are not over-complimentary to his Grace, 
Sir. Why should you not expect him to oppose 
any of Cadwaller’s efforts in your behalf ? ” I was 
not sure of my ground, so was compelled to go cau- 
tiously. 

He succeeded in loosening his collar, and again 
sank into a chair. “ Yes, yes, I see it all now,” he 
muttered to himself. 

“ Well, Sir, if you see it all, ’tis possible you now 
understand why I warned you against your sup- 
posed friend, Sir Charles Hawley.” 

He shook his head from side to side sadly. “ Hay, 
nay, I understand nothing. My God ! was there 
ever before so snarled a tangle ? ” 

“You now see I spoke the truth last night, when 
I told you that I had a tangle to unravel. The 


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♦ 


matter is even more unpleasant than I then thought. 
Your position, Sir, is most unenviable.” 

“ I am well aware of it, Sir. Think you it adds 
to your dignity thus to gloat over a victim ? Had 
you a spark of manhood, you would blush for your 
part in this outrageous oppression. My case seems 
hopeless ; ” — he slowly rose to his feet — “ but one 
thing is certain, — it never shall be said of a Heron 
that he permitted a daughter of his house to be 
handed over to a dissolute tyrant. I take back my 
parole, — I should have broken it and a dozen more 
to carry out my determination, — and now warn 
you that I shall escape from England, despite you 
or your King.” He sprang to the door at one 
bound, and had it locked ere I could divine his 
purpose. “ Your accursed Stuart never shall have 
me alive ; and if you take my dead body, there shall 
be another with it.” The old, aristocratic blood in 
his veins at last had asserted itself. So long as he 
was able to see an outlet, his weak nature had pre- 
dominated ; at bay, the courage of his ancestors 
came to his rescue. 

Toby knocked at the door. “ Do you want me, 
Sir?” he called. 

“]STo, no, Toby; everything is well.” 

“ Come, Sir,” said Sir Alfred, “ will you stand 
aside and permit me to pass peaceably ?” 

“ To what purpose ? Where do you wish to 
go?” 

“To my daughter. I must learn from her 

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whether it was the Queen or not that occupied the 
second chair that night.” 

“ I am here, my father,” she said, stepping into 
view from a turning in the stairs. 

Sir Alfred started, advanced two paces toward 
her, but halted by the table, as she came slowly 
down, pale, calm and dignified. I kept my place, 
with Sir Alfred between me and the door. 

“ You have been deceived, father ; the Queen did 
occupy the other chair. I thought you knew.” 
She placed her hand upon his shoulder as she 
spoke. 

Sir Alfred did not speak ; but his head bent for- 
ward and his shoulders rose and fell quickly, as 
though he struggled with a mighty load, and one 
too great for his courage. Presently he raised his 
head. ‘‘Then we must leave England,” he said 
slowly, facing me determinedly. 

“ You see no other way out of your difficulties ? ” 
I asked. 

He watched me closely, as though fearful of 
some sudden attack. “ Ho,” he answered. 

“ Remember, if you should escape, ’t would likely 
mean the confiscation of your estate.” 

The maiden turned crimson. “ Which you place 
higher than honour? ” she asked. 

I bit my lip. “ I but wish your father fully to un- 
derstand his position, before undertaking a rash act.” 

“ I have not asked your counsel, Sir,” he put in 
haughtily, still watching me closely. 

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“ And you, Madam, will you go with your father ? ” 

“ Why should I not, Sir ? You no longer hold his 
parole.” 

“ True ; but I hold his life.” 

Her eyes opened wide with fear. She shrank from 
me, and drew nearer to her unworthy parent. 
“ You— you would not— you ” she stammered. 

“ My word is given to the King that I will not 
permit Sir Alfred Heron nor his daughter to leave 
their home until I shall have received further orders 
from his Majesty. My promise should be carried 
out, even though Sir Alfred were my own father.” 

She clasped her hands before her, and leaning 
forward, pale-faced, w T ide-eyed and trembling, gazed 
at me for what seemed an age. 

My eyes fell before the eloquent reproach. 
“ Zounds ! ” I thought, “ she has more soul than a 
thousand mere women.” 

“ But — but — you said at the bridge that I — that 
we may rely on your sword for protection.” The 
blood rushed to her face, and when I raised my eyes, 
hers sank before them. 

Ah ! that moment was worth a lifetime ; and yet, 
I felt a sorrow that she — that anyone should think 
me capable of failing to make good a promise. 

“ You speak correctly, Madam ; I did assure you 
of my assistance ; but that I should be able to take 
the proper course, it was necessary that I should 
have more information concerning the whole matter. 
I now believe most of the mystery has been made 

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clear to me ; therefore I shall know how best to act, 
when the time for action shall come.” 

Sir Alfred’s eyes shifted from me to his daughter, 
then back to me again, in wonder. 

“ When I first came here,” I continued, after a 
moment’s pause, which I made that my words might 
take effect with him, “ I formed the opinion that 
you, Sir, had been duped by men occupying higher 
positions, and that you were being used to hide their 
deeper plans. Then other things happened, which 
caused me to doubt this conclusion. I thought it 
best to question you, and show you on what dangerous 
ground } 7 ou stand. You see how hopeless is your 
position ; I see how I must go about to clear the 
mystery up. First, the idea of escape to France 
must be abandoned. Mature consideration will show 
you how hopeless such a course would be. ’T would 
but rouse the King’s determination ; and in no spot 
in Christendom should you be beyond his reach, now 
that Louis is his friend. When this plan is given 
up, it leaves you with but one honourable alter- 
native — the pacifying of the King.” 

“ Pacifying ! Do you know what that means ? ” 
he broke in. 

His daughter blushed deeply and turned to the 
window. 

“ I said honourable alternative, Sir.” 

“ ’Twill be a surprise for his Majesty,” he sneered. 

“ I hope you shall be able to play your part, Sir,” 
I said drily. 

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Again he almost choked with rage, but I went on, 
without apparent notice. “ The King, as I have 
said, must in some way be induced to believe in your 
ignorance of the Queen’s presence when the attack 
was made, or at least be persuaded to treat you 
with leniency.” 

“ Who will undertake the negotiations ? ” 

The lady turned from the window and looked at 
me expectantly. 

“ The matter must take its own course, for the 
present. When the opportunity presents itself, I 
shall be prepared to do all in my power. I think 
we shall not have long to wait. Meantime, if you 
hope for a successful conclusion — I must have your 
confidence and support.” 

The lady looked anxious, and watched her father 
eagerly, while he remained silent, apparently in doubt 
as to what course to take. 

At last he said : “ The matter is of great weight, 
and one to which an answer cannot be given without 
deep consideration. At dinner-time I shall give you 
my decision. In the meantime I promise to take 
no action.” 

Again the lady’s eyes sought mine. They now 
seemed to bear a message. 

“ Am I at liberty to leave my house ? ” Sir Alfred 
smiled faintly. 

“ I hope to see you at dinner, Sir,” I bowed. 

He unlocked and opened the door— and met Toby, 
who faced him with drawn sword. 

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“ All is well, Toby,” I nodded. “ Permit Sir 
Alfred Heron to pass.” 

The little man frowned slightly, and drove his 
sword into its scabbard with a sharp click. 

Sir Alfred strode forth with a swagger, then 
slackened his pace and crossed the lawn leisurely, 
his hands behind him. 

I stepped to the door, and in a whisper, gave Toby 
his directions. “ Follow him,” I said, “wherever he 
goes; but offer no interference, unless he should 
attempt to speak with someone else.” 

Toby touched his hat in silence, and was off. 

“ How, Madam, what is it ? ” 

“ It ? — What % ” she asked in wide surprise. 

“ Did you — did you not wish to speak to me ? ” 
She seemed possessed of an innocent way of making 
one feel uncomfortable. 

She wrinkled her brow for a moment, as though 
in deep thought. “ Ho, I think not.” She reddened 
a little. “ Ah, yes ! I desired permission to leave 
the house ; but I see you have sent Toby away, so I 
must wait my guard’s return.” She turned away 
with a grimace of mock resignation. 

“ Toby has received no such appointment. That 
honour I have reserved for myself.” 

“ And have I no choice ? ” she asked sadly, her 
head bending in submission. 

“ Hone ! ” I said firmly. 

“ Then I bow to the inevitable.” And with a 
mocking little smile, and head still bowed, she passed 
out ; and I — twisting my mustaches — followed. 

no 


CHAPTER Y II. 


She had said she did not wish to speak with me ; 
but I would have sworn that she had sent me a 
“ speechless message ” with her eyes, which plainly 
said : “ When my father shall have left the room, I 
have something to tell you.” When we left the 
house, I thought it was some foolish pride that made 
her deny that she had anything to say. But as we 
strolled slowly from one walk to another, and she 
spoke freely and light-heartedly of nothing more 
serious than the changed positions of the nests in 
the trees, the progress being made by divers early 
plants, or the neglect into which a certain arbour — 
which she volunteered to show me — might have 
fallen, during her absence, I came to the conclusion 
that my eyes must have deceived me. 

That anyone in her position could speak so calmly 
of things most commonplace, was almost past be- 
lief ; yet in her — strange as the statement may ap- 
pear — it seemed most natural. 

For this reason, it came to me as a surprise, rather 
than as that that most reasonably should have been 
expected long before, when, after explaining that 
this was her first visit to her old haunts since the 
previous year, she suddenly came to a halt and, 
facing me, asked abruptly : “ How did it chance 

in 


Mark Everard 


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* 

that you undertook this task of apprehending us ? ” 
There was no anger nor reproach in her voice — the 
tones were half idly curious, half sad. 

As I have said, her sudden return to seriousness 
took me something unawares ; and I hesitated, there- 
fore, before making reply. 

Her patience vanished with her change of thought, 
for with a toss of her head she started on again. 
“ I should not have asked you. I have overstepped 
the rights of a prisoner.” 

If her question surprised me, this sudden change 
of temper did not help to collect my wits. Faith, 
its total unwarrantableness set off a sudden anger 
within me. 

“ Halt ! ” 1 shouted sharply. 

She started as though I had discharged a pistol, 
then turned in alarm, white-faced and trembling. 

The blood rushed to my head, my brain swam, 
I felt my face burn as from fire, my eyes sought 
the ground, — and with uncovered head I took a step 
toward her. 

She drew back to the side of the path, fearing 
that 1 should touch her. I should have preferred a 
sword-stroke. 

“Madam,” I said humbly, “forgive me. There 
is no excuse for the brutal way in which I spoke to 
you, I know. My hope of pardon lies in your gen- 
erosity. Pardon an old soldier, whose rough life 
has made him more masterful than gallant.” 

Her head was bowed, when I looked up, but after 

1 12 


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a little she raised her face to mine slowly. “ It was 
my fault,” she said quietly. “ I had no reason in 
me, when I spoke so childishly. But I am so 
troubled, Sir, I scarce know what I say.” Her voice 
trembled, and tears sprang to her eyes. 

“ I never shall forgive myself,” I said bitterly. 

“ But you were in the right, Sir ; you brought 
me to my senses.” 

“ No, no, your kindness but makes me the more 
miserable.” 

“ It was all my fault ! ” She stamped her foot 
impatiently. 

Her emphasis warned me to desist, else we were 
like to run into greater difficulties: so I half- 
smiled and bowed in submission, which seemed to 
satisfy her, for she returned the smile, which pres- 
ently became broader on both sides, and finally 
ended in a hearty laugh, in which our misunder- 
standing was borne away. 

“ And now, we are friends once more ? ” I asked. 

She reddened a little, glanced away, then replied 
with great seriousness : “ No, not friends, but ene- 
mies that are now allied against a common foe.” 

“ Is it possible for foes to be allied ? ” 

“ The English and the Dutch are so united.” 

“ And the common foe ? ” I asked, as we drew 
near the arbour. 

She looked at me strangely. “ Perchance I was 
wrong. You may have no enemies.” 

Why did I not bite my tongue to stop that ques- 

8 113 


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tion? I meant it to draw out her confidence, but 
her reply showed me the unkindness of my words. 
It seemed as though my every effort was to wound 
her ; and God knows how far were such intentions 
from me. 

“ Indeed I have many,” I said hastily. “ For that 
reason I wish to say to what one you refer in par- 
ticular.” 

Again she glanced at me, but half-believing. 

“ That opens up the whole matter,” she replied 
very seriously, her brow wrinkled and her whole 
manner almost comically deliberate and judge-like. 

Here was my opportunity — now was my one 
chance to learn the many mysteries still unsolved — 
and I seized it. 

“ But that is what I most desire, Madam ; if you 
will so honour me with your confidence.” 

We were at the arbour now — a pretty place, noth- 
ing fallen into neglect, as she had feared, but still 
retaining its quaint arrangement of seats and art- 
ful training of shrubs, a most restful and pleasing 
spot of originality and seclusion among the flowers. 
The little stream that we had visited in the morn- 
ing glided quietly past us here, between banks of 
brightest green, which, on the side where we stood, 
was steep, but opposite climbed into a hill of long 
and gentle reach, and, with the exception of a few 
yards by the water’s edge, covered with grand old 
trees. It was a place that made one think of a hot 
summer day in the peaceful shade, of books and a 

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long-stemmed pipe, of twittering birds and a life of 
ease, and — yes — a soft- voiced laugh, or a jolly romp. 
It showed one, more clearly than all your philoso- 
phies, the follies of intrigue, warfare, hardship 
and glory ; and softly whispered to one’s heart that 
here, and here only, could be found the real goal of 
all ambition — the rare contentment of a tranquil 
mind. 

I had time for the dream ere the lady resumed. 

“ Yes,” she said presently, seating herself, “ that 
opens up the whole unfortunate affair. Why, why 
did I ever consent to think of courts ? They con- 
tain naught but strife and wickedness. But you, 
Sir,” she broke off, “ you have not yet answered my 
question. How do you chance to be mixed in my 
unhappy fortunes ? I shall not be so impatient this 
time,” she added, with a sad little smile. 

Before making reply I looked carefully around, to 
make sure that none could be eavesdropping ; then 
taking a seat directly facing her, I said, speaking 
low : “ A note was handed me by the landlord of 
the inn at which I was staying, which requested me 
to be present at the dance of which you know, and 
be prepared to render a noble service to the King.” 

“By whom was it signed?” the lady asked 
eagerly. 

I smiled at her innocence. “ ’Tis not customary 
to sign such missives, Madam. It merely directed 
me to the place of merriment, and told how I should 
know the writer.” 


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“ Yes? ” she asked, leaning forward with clasped 
hands and eager face. 

“ It said that I might know him by a masque of 
bright red, and that he would seek me out, if I would 
sit at table, and come without disguise.’’ 

“A red masque?” She shook her head. “ I 
know of none that went so.” 

“Well, we met, as you know. He led me to a 
private room above-stairs, where I was presented — 
after some little dispute — to another gentleman, who 
there awaited us. They told me of a plot to abduct 
the Queen, and asked me to frustrate it. I con- 
sented — and succeeded, as you know. The next morn- 
ing I went to Whitehall, at the command of the 
King, and was informed by him that the lady who 
had accompanied the Queen on the previous night 
had disappeared from the Palace most mysteriously. 
I handed to his Majesty a sword that I had taken 
from one of the conspirators. On the blade was 
engraved 6 Sir Alfred Heron ’ and a coat of arms. 
The King at once saw what had become of the 
lady. She was the daughter of Sir Alfred, he told 
me. A warrant for your father’s arrest was given 
me, and I set out at once. The rest, Madam, is 
known to you.” 

“ And you gave the sword to the King ? ” There 
was regret and reproach in her voice and 
look. 

“ I did, but without knowing aught of Sir Alfred. 
To me he was but a conspirator. Not once did I 

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dream that he was the father of the lady that had 
disappeared.’’ 

“No, no! How could you?” she said, after a 
little thought. “ But did you not learn more of the 
man in the red masque ? ” 

“ Yes. He was the Duke of Monmouth.” 

“ The Duke of Monmouth ! And he told you of 
a plot to abduct the Queen ? ” 

“ Hush ! ” I held up a hand in warning. “ There 
may be listeners about. Our conversation must be 
secret.” Then, before answering, I took a look 
around among the trees and bushes. We were alone 
— seemingly. 

“ Yes,” I said, coming back, “’twas his Grace that 
told me of the plot. The other gentleman was the 
King.” 

“ The King ! Was he there too ? ” 

“ In faith he was. And a close watch he had 
placed on the Queen and her companion.” 

“ Oh, the treachery of it all ! Why, Sir, ’twas the 
young Duke that persuaded my father to make the 
attempt to carry me off. He learned, in some way, 
of her Majesty’s intentions — knew that I was chosen 
to accompany her — and then went to my father and 
proposed my abduction, as the best way of getting 
me away from that— that awful place. I thought 
he had told my father that it was with the Queen 
I should go ; but even in that he was a knave, it 
would seem. And he told you it was for carrying 
off the Queen! Oh! is there no faith in man?” 

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* 


She buried her face in her hands for a moment, then 
looked up again, wiping her eyes. 

“ But there must be some reason for this treachery. 
No man will make of himself a plain traitor, unless 
he hopes to further his selfish interests in some way. 
Can you not think of any object the Little Duke 
would have for wishing your plans to miscarry ? He 
seemed most anxious that the abductors should be 
caught. In fact, he was quite annoyed when I re- 
fused an offer of assistance.” 

She thought for a moment, then blushed deeply 
and turned her head partly from me. “ It might be 
because the Duke had some private quarrel with one 
by whom my father was assisted. I can think of 
no other reason,” she said slowly, her eyes not meet- 
ing mine. 

“ And this one by whom your father was assisted ; 
what is his name ? ” 

She looked up quickly. “ Is it right that I should 
tell you, Sir ? I mean, would it be a betrayal of my 
father’s confidence? I should like to tell, but know 
not if ’tis right. Guide me, Sir. I am but a poor, 
troubled maiden, driven almost to madness.” There 
was a tremble in her voice, and her mouth quivered, 
as though she w T as near to giving way. 

Here was something for which one would not 
look, under such circumstances, and also something 
that one should seldom find, if he should search for 
a life-time. “How can Sir Alfred Heron be the 
father of so noble a lady ? ” I wondered. “ Zounds ! 

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she’s one in ten million ! ” I swore under my 
breath. 

“ Nay, Madam, do not tell me. A conscience like 
yours always will guide you aright. But luckily I 
know his name. Your father’s companion was a 
certain Lord Cadwaller, a man of great friendship 
with the King. 

Her head remained bowed, and she gave no sign 
of the effect of my words, save in the rosy colour that 
rushed up her neck to her cheeks, then receded, only 
to return again with the next breath. But from 
this I felt assured that Cadwaller w T as the man, for 
had I been wrong, she would have denied my as- 
sertion, I made no doubt. And now to learn more 
concerning this person that already had played so 
important a part in this business, and who — judging 
from what I had overheard of the conversation be- 
tween Sir Alfred and his daughter — was like to re- 
appear ere the play could be finished. 

“ ’Tis unfortunate that his Lordship managed to 
escape us. Now, had he been taken, the situation 
would have been less uncomfortable for your father. 
Cadwaller’s influence with the King would doubt- 
less be strong enough to have everything hushed, 
for on his head the greater responsibility would rest ; 
and the King, ever lenient with his personal friends, 
would, to shield the Earl, forego his vengeance on 
Sir Alfred. But as the matter now stands, with his 
Lordship unsuspected, the King will not be so ready 
to please his friend. Then, if there is a quarrel be- 

XI ? 


Mark Everard 


* 




tween Cadwaller and the Little Duke, the opposition 
of the latter must be considered also. For these 
reasons we must come to the conclusion that his Lord- 
ship will be of little, if any, assistance to us.” 

Her look became almost joyful. “ Oh, I am so 
glad of that, Sir ! I have nothing but contempt for 
the knave!” She clenched her little white fists in 
sudden fury. “ If I were only a man ! ” (Eyes 
sparkling and lips compressed.) 

I had a mind to tell her that the transformation 
would be far from an improvement. But I said 
nothing, and awaited the abating of the little tempest. 
And it soon came. Gradually the red lips and the 
hands relaxed, then slowly her face turned toward 
me, and catching a twinkle in my eye — a thing that 
I could not suppress — her sense of humour asserted 
itself, and she was unable to keep back a smile. 

“ Still, I do,” she persisted, a moment later. 

“ Well — ah — well, can not that defensive alliance 
of which we were speaking be made to serve 
instead ? ” 

She laughed a little, yet tried to appear impatient. 
“ You are not over-serious, Sir,” she pouted, toying 
with a ribbon. 

“ Oh, Madam, I protest ! ” 

“ Nay, nay, hush ! as you told me a few moments 
since ; there may be listeners, as you said. Much 
protesting, you know, is a sign of insincerity, they 
say.” She was smiling again. 

Zooks ! ’twas a mighty difficult task for one to 

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remain serious for long, when in her presence. She 
was so young, and beautiful, and bright, and full of 
sunshine, even in such sore trouble, that she made 
one feel the fire, glory, and irrepressible light- 
heartedness of youth, despite a most embarrassing 
situation and five and-thirty years of kicks about 
the world. 

I again took my seat, and looked very serious, 
while she, after watching my expression for a 
moment, rested her chin upon the backs of her hands 
and stared off across the little stream, apparently 
lost in her thoughts. 

“ I wish I knew ” she started slowly, her eyes 

still directed across the stream — and there she stopped 
abruptly, and turned red, as though the words 
had slipped out half-unconsciously. For a fraction 
of a second she looked at me, then dropped her eyes 
again, with : “ No, I did not mean it.” 

“ Oh ! ” I said. “ Should I feel pleased or an- 
noyed ? ” 

“ If you will promise to be annoyed, I will tell 
you what I was about to say.” (A little spitefully.) 

“ I swear to be angry and ” 

" Swear ? ” she laughed. 

My mustaches required a thoughtful twist. “ Ho, 
not without special orders.” 

“ Then I fear you will not be very angry.” 

“ I only swear when amused.” 

“ How full of amusement men’s lives must be.” 

I made no return of the blow. 

12 1 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


The little victory seemed to give her more confi- 
dence. “ What I started to say was : I wish I knew 
you better — that is, I wish I could see how you will 
act in this trouble, and why you are working against 
my enemies. You know — you — you seem so 
honest, and yet — I — have seen you but once. I know 
not why I should trust you. You may be working 
against me, for — for aught I know to the contrary.” 
Her head was bowed again, and while she spoke 
she plucked the petals from a rose bloom, one by 
one, and dropped them into her lap. 

So sincere was my determination to see justice 
done to this poor maiden, that it had not seemed 
strange to me that she was so ready to trust and 
take me into her confidence. Yet now, when she 
spoke of it, I could not but wonder that she had 
been so confiding ; for, as she said, she had not 
known of my existence until two days before. Faith, 
as I looked at the matter from her point of view, it 
became evident that I should explain my position ; 
and at that moment it occurred to me that a rea- 
sonable explanation of why I was assisting her 
would be a mighty difficult and embarrassing thing 
to give. 

“ Gad ! ” I said, sorely puzzled, “ I wonder not at 
your uncertainty. Now that you mention it, my 
position seems a strange one. The only explanation 
I can offer is that I am not hired by the King to do 
whatever he bids. True, I undertook to arrest your 
father, and to prevent your leaving here until I 

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should hear from his Majesty ; but I promised no 
more. I made myself party to no undertaking that 
had the injury of an innocent person as its object ; 
in fact, I undertook the service more for the purpose 
of seeing justice done, than aught else. I am not 
in the pay of the King, and when I hear from him, 
what I promised shall have been fulfilled. After 
that, ’tis possible his Majesty and I may differ on a 
question of justice — who can tell?” 

While I was speaking, she kept her eyes fixed on 
the opposite bank, but when I had finished, she turned 
and looked at me steadily for a moment. 

“ As God’s above us, Madam, I have told you the 
whole truth and nothing more,” I said, uncovering. 

“ I believe you, Master Everard. I have trusted 
you ever since you came, though without a real 
reason. We shall be friends now — if you will, Sir.” 
She put out th*e smallest, whitest little hand in the 
world. 

“ As well as allies,” I reminded, bending over it. 

She laughed, then turned serious. “ But the 
King, Sir, is not the only one I fear,” she said, 
with head turned partly from me ; “ though I must 
not further weary you with my troubles.” 

“ If we are allies, you should tell me all ; if friends 
and allies, the more reason for your confidence. The 
greater my knowledge of the whole matter, the less 
difficult will be my task of frustrating your perse- 
cutors, which in any event seems like to be suffi- 
ciently uncertain to lend zest to the enterprise.” 

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She glanced around, then, lowering her voice and 
leaning forward a little, she said, very low : “ ’Tis 
undutiful to say it, I know, but you — you already 
know my father ; he ” 

“ Yes, yes, I understand,’’ I put in, for she seemed 
inclined to go no further. 

“ This Lord Cadwaller has some influence over 

him, I fear, and he Oh, I cannot tell you, Sir, 

’tis too shameful ! ” 

“ Yes,” I said with a tightening about the jaws, 
“I have suspected this. Come, Madam, do not 
despair; neither the King nor Cadwaller yet has 
seriously harmed you, nor shall either, by Heaven! ” 
I gave my hat a savage jerk forward over my eyes 
and stared at the opposite bank myself. 

Neither spoke for some time, and I was wander- 
ing off through a whirl of plans for the defeating of 
them that soon were to be my opponents, when I 
heard a strange little laugh, and, turning to the 
lady, beheld her smiling through her tears. 

“ You swore,” she said comically. “ Are you 
amused ? ” 

I tried to put reproof into my look, but, for some 
unknown reason, it would not come at my command ; 
and as she continued to look at me with that half- 
laughing, half-tearful expression, I abandoned the 
effort, and smiled back broadly. 

“ No, that is the exception that proves my rule,” 
I said, laughing. 

At this moment a small piece of gravel struck 

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the rustic bench upon which I was sitting. The 
lady gave a little startled scream, and sprang to her 
feet, while my hand flew to my sword by instinct, 
as I arose and faced in the direction from which 
the stone seemed to have come. I listened in- 
tently, and thought I made out a faint sound, as 
of someone retreating from behind a hedge a few 
paces from the arbour, before which we had been 
sitting. 

“ Be not alarmed, Madam, and remain where you 
are ; I shall return in a moment. I must search 
behind that hedge.” 

“ Nay, nay, Sir, you must not ! there may be 
danger there ! ” She put her hand on my arm in 
restraint. 

“ Danger ! ” I cried. “ Ha ! Danger and I are old 
friends.” And gently releasing myself, I whipped 
out my sword and, crossing the open space at a 
run, cleared the hedge like a schoolboy. In the air 
I wondered at my activity. 

But not a soul could 1 find, though I searched in 
every place that offered a chance of concealment. 
If any one had been there, listening, ’twas evident 
he had made his escape ; though how he managed 
it so quietly, I could not make out. There was also 
the possibility that I had mistaken the place whence 
the sound came. The strangeness of the incident 
then occurred to me. “ Why should an eaves- 
dropper wish to attract my attention to his pres- 
ence ? ” I wondered. This thought gave me a 

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sudden shock. “ What if it is but a plan to get me 
away from the lady ? ” I gasped, and started back 
with all speed. As I came up to the hedge I peeped 
over, half-fearful lest I should find that she had dis- 
appeared. Then I gave a sigh of relief, and re- 
turned to her presence with more dignity than I 
had displayed in leaving. 

At my approach she turned from a maid, to 
whom she had been speaking, and advanced a few 
steps toward me. 

“Yes? ” she asked, her face anxious. 

“ ISTo one,” I replied, raising my eyebrows and 
nodding in the direction of the other. 

“ My maid, to say that ’tis dinner-time. But was 
there no sign of anyone ? ” 

“ No. ’Tis possible it came from the other side 
of the stream., or it may have been our imagina- 
tion.” I wished to relieve her mind of anxiety. 

“ But the stone was not imagination. Here it 
is.” She handed me a little pebble about the size 
of a chestnut. 

“ A bird may have dropped it,” I said carelessly. 

She looked at me peculiarly, evidently suspecting 
my object, but said nothing. Then, turning to 
the maid — Martha, she called her — she sent her 
back to the house, after telling her we should fol- 
low directly. 

“ Come,” she said, after standing silent so long as 
the maid was in sight, “ whom do you sus- 
pect ? ” 


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“ Of what ? ” Her question came with too great 
a suddenness. 

“ Of throwing the pebble, to be sure.” 

“ Suspect ! Why, I can form no idea ; for there 
is no apparent object that anyone listening could 
have in wishing to call our attention to his pres- 
ence.” 

“ I don’t agree with you in this,” she said, smil- 
ing a little — at what, I could not imagine. 

“ In what do we disagree ? ” 

“ I think there was someone there. Yes, more 
than someone.” She nodded her head very wisely. 
Then a startled and pained look came over her face, 
and I heard her mutter : “ No, no, not that ! — he 

surely would not ! ” 

I watched her curiously. “ Here is the strangest 
puzzle with which I ever have been confronted — 
ay, and the most lovely ! Zounds ! what a wondrous 
combination ! Youth, wit, and reason, and all done 
up in the most beautiful and bewitching little bundle 
possible to imagine. Tears one moment, then a 
strange little laugh, that, some way, goes to one’s 
heart more than the tears ; and then, while the 
pathos and humour are mixing within you, out pops 
a sunbeam of rare penetration. Zooks! she is a 
marvel of harmony and discord ; but, spit me ! 
the discords seem harmony too.” I shook my head. 
“ Strange, strange ! ” I muttered, “ but she makes 
one feel — feel — ah — ah — well — boyish. Now I won- 
der — I wonder — what the devil do I wonder? Oh ! 

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4 


I must be over hungry,” I concluded, and started 
after her, who stood waiting a few paces up the 
path. Her face wore a little smile of half-amuse- 
ment, half-surprise. 

“ What w T ere you considering so deeply ? ” she 
questioned, as I came up. 

“ Considering ! — Was I considering ? ” 

A shadow of annoyance passed over her face. 
“ You should best know, Sir.” 

“ Oh, yes — to be sure ! — why, certainly ! ” I stam- 
mered uneasily. 

She raised her eyebrows and looked at me curi- 
ously. 

“ Yes, — that stone — strange, the way it fell. Who 
could have thrown it, I wonder ? ” 

She fixed her eyes on the house and smiled 
strangely. “ A bird dropped it, did it not ? I fear 
you are forgetful, Sir.” 

“ Oh, yes — yes — pardon me ; I had forgot. But 
look ! How beautiful ! ” I broke off, stopping beside 
a bush that was one mass of blooms, on one of 
which a huge butterfly was sunning himself and 
lazily waving his wings, as though breathing in the 
perfume. 

“ Yes, beautiful, and so opportune! ” she laughed. 
“ Give me your hat, Sir ; I must catch it.” 

But the purplish beauty had no mind for being 
caught ; for as the lady attempted to drop the hat 
over him, he made a demi-volte and flashed beneath 
her arm. 


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“ Oh ! ” she cried in disappointment. 

“ Quick ! ” I seized the hat and started in pursuit. 

He dodged quickly from one bush to another, 
leading me a lively chase. Then I was almost upon 
him. He circled beautifully, as though to pass 
behind a brier bush, but changing his mind at the 
last moment, he darted quickly upward, as though 
in sudden fright. I swore and followed — missed 
him by an inch — and came down upon something 
that groaned sadly, as it and I rolled into the sweet 
but sharp-toothed bush. “ Oh, Lord ! ” cried Toby, 
as he scrambled to his feet, “ you almost broke my 
back, Sir ! ” And then, with one hand held to his 
back and the other over his mouth, he made a sound 
not unlike a smothered cough. I’ll swear he was 
laughing. 

“ Damn you, Toby ! why don’t keep out of the 
way ? ” I stormed, lifting up im^self and my sad- 
looking hat. “ Confound you ! you’re always where 
least expected ! ” 

“Very sorry, Sir! — sorry you missed it, Sir!” 
He bowed and brushed himself vigorously. 

“Missed what ? ” 

“ Why, the butterfly, Sir.” 

I ground my teeth. Here was the second time 
he had caught me playing the fool, — feeding fishes 
in the morning, chasing butterflies at noon. Lord ! 
what next? 

“Yes, I hate butterflies,” I growled, with as good 
a look of truth as I could put on. “I always kill 

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4 


them when I can.” How weak it sounded ! But 
Toby managed to keep control of his features. 

“ Why did you throw the stone ? ” I questioned, 
glad to change the subject. 

“ Sir Alfred had just reached the hedge, Sir, and 
was watching you.” 

“ Where is he now ? ” 

“ Gone on toward the house, Sir.” 

“ Quick, then ; follow him ! I hope you’re not 
hurt, Toby.” 

“ Oh, no, Sir ! Sorry you missed it, Sir.” 

I shook my fist at his retreating figure, then 
turned back to where I had left the lady. 

“ Did you not get it ? ” In her voice was disap- 
pointment, in her eyes a merry twinkle. 

“ No, Madam ; but it got me.” 

“ What ? — the butterfly ? ” She laughed outright. 

“ No ; — a brier bush.” 

“ Oh ! Were you injured ?” 

“My temper, chiefly.” I was half-angry, yet 
tempted to laugh. 

She hesitated a moment, as though wondering if 
it was safe to say what she had in mind ; but the 
temptation was too great. “ Were you — were you 
amused ? ” 

I could not keep from laughing. “ Well, just a 
little — a very little. I now regret that I did not 
indulge myself more.” 

“ But was all your conversation with the bush 
and the butterfly ? ” 


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I hesitated — considered — and decided that to one 
of her character the truth should be told. “ Nay ; 
Toby was there,” I said quietly. 

She blushed deeply, bit her lip, as though to keep 
back an exclamation of pain, and walked on with 
quickened step and in silence to the house. And 
through dinner she said scarcely a word, though 
her father, who decided to be guided by me, laughed 
and chatted merrily, as though he and I had been 
comrades. 

For his daughter’s sake, I treated him as a gentle- 
man, and, though it went mightily against my 
conversed with him freely. 


CHAPTER Y III. 


I now felt no fear that Sir Alfred would again 
change his mind and decide that his former plan — 
that is, to run away — was wiser than to remain. 
He saw clearly, I made no doubt, that his only 
chance of extricating himself from his difficulties lay 
in the advice I had given him. He was a coward, 
as well as a knave, I was forced to confess, and in 
his cowardice lay the secret of his apparently brave 
selection, — he feared to flee, lest he then should cut 
himself off from all hopes of compromise or pardon ; 
for he well knew I spoke truth when I said there 
was no place in Christendom in which he long could 
hide from his Majesty, King Charles of England. 
No, I did not look for any serious trouble from Sir 
Alfred — he now would rely on me from necessity, 
for the present, at least; — ’twas this Cad waller, 
backed by the King, that caused my chief anxiety. 
From the time when I overheard the stormy con- 
versation between father and daughter, I had formed 
my opinion of the plans of his Lordship. That the 
maiden had but a faint suspicion of the depth of 
degradation that was being prepared for her, I 
knew full well. As for Sir Alfred, I felt inclined to 
believe that he too was partly in ignorance, even 
though he had shown himself to be capable of almost 

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any villainy. In my own mind was locked the mis- 
erable knowledge of their vile plans, the thoughts of 
which, whether I strolled idly through the park or 
tossed upon my bed, set such a fire to burn within 
me as made me long for a moment when this uncer- 
tainty should be at an end, and I should stand face 
to face Avith them that held the power. 

But my hope that I should not have long to wait 
ere matters were brought to a climax was doomed 
to disappointment. There came no message from 
the King the day following the departure of Sir 
Charles, though 1 fully expected his Majesty to act 
with promptness. The next passed the same, and 
for a week after that we were kept in anxious 
uncertainty. 

Sir Alfred became irritable and excited; Toby, 
for some unexplainable reason, avoided my presence, 
and sulked ; Mistress Heron fed the fishes and grew 
more reserved, and rarely was seen without her 
maid, Martha, at her heels ; while I developed 
something of Sir Alfred’s temper, and swore at the 
servants, became less hearty at table, and sat be- 
side the little stream, alone, and stared into the 
water with eyes that did not see. 

Sometimes I spent a whole morning in an at- 
tempt to lose myself in the park — to get away from 
everything — away from myself. But always on 
these wanderings, the uncomfortable feeling that 
I was not alone — that some one was following 
me — would not be shaken off. “ ’Tis a foolish idea, 

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to be sure,” I thought. “Yes, upon my soul, ’tis 
childish ! ” Then I would stop and consider. 
“ What the devil is the matter with me?” I would 
cry out peevishly. “ I must be far from well,” I 
would conclude, and then return to my favourite 
spot near the arbour, and try to see the fishes in 
the stream. But still the feeling of another pres- 
ence would not leave me — a presence not to be 
desired. 

On the eighth day after the return of Sir Charles 
to London, I was sitting by the stream as usual, 
oppressed by the same unexplainable melancholy 
that now had become a part of me, when I heard a 
lady’s voice, and, glancing over my shoulder, be- 
held Mistress Heron and her maid emerging from 
the path. The lady was laughing, as though in 
high glee, and telling something to the other. I 
know not what caused it, but a boyish impulse to 
run came over me, and, obeying its dictate, I 
dodged quickly behind a bush and ran hastily back 
until I had passed the end of the hedge, round 
which I went almost silently. Then I peeped out 
to see if I had been detected. No ; she was seated 
now, and while I watched, she turned to the rose- 
bush behind her bench and plucked a bloom, as she 
had on that first morning. For a moment she was 
serious, then the maid said something, and the lady 
clapped her hands joyously, and her merry laugh 
came to me. I turned on my heel and walked 
away, with mixed feelings of sadness and anger. 

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“ She is happy and gay and thoughtless,” I mut- 
tered, “and I am sad, gloomy, and Ha, you 

knave ! So I have caught you at last ! ” And I 
let out my wrath in the pursuit and capture of the 
fleeing Julius, the porter. 

He was gliding from behind one tree to another 
when I spied him, but seeing that he was detected 
he threw off his snake-like manner for the nonce, 
and showed a cleaner pair of heels than one should 
expect in so slow-moving an animal. He fled for 
but a score of yards, however, for his foot caught 
on a projecting root, and he sprawled at full length 
upon the grass. As he regained his feet I was upon 
him. My mind was in no condition to exercise 
leniency. I seized him by the collar, and shook 
him until his teeth rattled, then administered as 
liberal a quantity of boot leather as my toe could 
well stand. 

“ Now hark, you spying villain, : ” I said, when I 
had exhausted my list of stronger terms. “ If ever 
again I catch you at such practice, ’tis steel instead 
of leather I will use ! There, begone, and thank 
heaven that you have escaped with your life ! ” I 
gave him a final shake and push from me. 

Not a word did he utter, and no struggle did he 
make, but took his punishment with scowling pas- 
siveness. When I bade him go, he stared at me 
savagely for a moment, then turned, still silent, and 
sneaked off. At a dozen paces from me he halted, 
turned slowly, and cast at me another look of hatred. 

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Yes, plainly that look meant murder. The face 
was still of the almost yellow hue — no trace of a 
fiery passion. ’Twas in its hellish calmness that 
the menace lay — a calmness as hideous as unnatural. 
Not even in the eyes did a fire burn — ’twas a masque 
of Death, as perfect as any that the most morbid 
sculptor could dream of ; and the lank and dead 
black hair made a fitting drape. As Toby said, when 
I told him of the incident, the creature reminded 
one of the vile insects under a rotten log. 

The devil boiled up within me as he stared. I 
took a step toward him, my hand upon my hilt, 
but he limped off through the bushes, and in a mo- 
ment was out of sight. I leaned against a tree and 
stared after him, while the conviction that this half- 
dead fiend and I some day should have a greater 
difference to settle was forced in upon me. 

“ Yes,” I muttered, “ there is here the hand of 
Destiny. Either that devil was born to murder me, 
or I sent here to rid the earth of that foul ulcer. 
Which? I wonder. Well, something tells me we 
shall not have long to wait for the answer ; and 
which it is — bah ! I care not.” Then I laughed at 
my foolishness, but turned with a start at the sound 
of a footstep behind me. 

A little scream. “ Oh, you frightened me ! ” she 
cried reproachfully. “ Why so warlike ? ” she smiled 
in surprise. 

I sheathed my blade in confusion, and bowed, 
feeling mighty foolish and uncomfortable the while. 

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“I just have finished chastising a spy, Madam. 
He left but now, and when I heard you behind me, 
I thought he might be returning.’’ 

“ A spy ! ” 

“ Ay, Madam ; a most loathsome creature — Julius, 
he is called, I think.” From some absurd cause, I 
felt quarrelsome — felt like blaming her for some- 
thing — wished to put her in the wrong ; therefore I 
emphasized the loathing I felt for this Julius — the 
thing that she had defended the first morning at 
the bridge. 

“ Julius ! ” She raised her eyebrows. “ And have 
you not outgrown your dislike for poor Julius?” 
She laughed provokingly. “ And J ulius a spy ! Fie, 
Sir ! you wrong him. There must be some mistake. 
But did you hurt him ? ” Her voice was anxious 
and a little severe, I thought. 

“Nay, I fear not,” I replied coldly; “for the 
thing seems possessed of no feeling. Next time I 
shall try steel.” 

“ No, no, you must not ! What has he done to 
make you speak so bitterly ? ” 

Her great solicitude for the knave but irritated 
me the more. 

“ What has he done ? He has followed me every 
day since I came here. He dogs me wherever I go. 
To-day was the first time I succeeded in catching 
him— the next shall be the last.” I know my man- 
ner was brutal, but I felt the ill-temper within me, 
and it would force itself out. 


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Her face took on a startled look, and she drew 
back, as though in fear. “ You — you must not kill 
1™!!’’ she said earnestly. “Hay, please promise 
me that you will not.” She held out her hands in 
supplication. 

I smiled, but the smile was mirthless, for my heart 
was bitter. An unworthy question came to my lips, 
but, thank God, I kept it back, and blushed for it. 

“ Think not that I wish you to be harmed,” she 
went on in a lower voice ; “but I know he means 
you no injury ; ’tis but because he looks upon you 
as my enemy. I shall see that he will trouble you 
no more, Sir. How, will you be less warlike ? ” 
She laughed a little uneasily. 

“ Oh, Madam, you need have no fear for your 
servant. I am no murderous ruffian that slays with- 
out provocation. I shall harm no one, save in self- 
defence; but the actions of this Julius seem mighty 
suspicious, and I have no liking for the knife of such 
a knave between my shoulders. He may, as you 
say, mean memo harm, but he has a look about him 
not encouraging to confidence.” 

Her eyes flashed in anger for a moment, then she 
lowered them, her toe tapping the grass impatiently. 

I leaned against a tree and dug holes in the ground 
with the heel of my boot, while strong feelings 
of anger, disappointment, and — I know not what, 
surged and mixed uncomfortably w T ithin me. I felt 
like swearing, crying out with a groan, or anything 
foolish ; but I bored holes, and said nothing. 

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“ You know,” she said presently, “ I can not blame 
you for disliking him ; his appearance is against him. 
I feel uncomfortable when I look at the fellow my- 
self. But he is so faithful a creature that I think it 
a duty to treat him with kindness. Come, we must 
not quarrel over a servant. I shall warn him to 
trouble you no more.” 

There now seemed to be no room for a mis- 
understanding. Her reserve of the past few days 
had disappeared. She had made a step in the direc- 
tion of the renewal of our former peaceful relations. 
My gloom melted ; my unreasonable anger against 
every one and everything settled down into a more 
generous feeling ; the old Spirit of the Park shook 
off the frown he had been wearing, and smiled as 
on that first day — yea, I even fancied that he chuckled 
softly, as though enjoying some rich joke. I had 
lost some dignity, mayhap, and a little temper ; but 
I felt no inconvenience from the loss — I was lighter 
without them. 

“ I hope, Madam, you again will forgive my 
roughness,” I said earnestly. “ I am always craving 
your pardon for some hasty rudeness, it seems. I 
fear you will weary of it, and think me insincere.” 

“ Nay, nay ! ’tis not wholly your fault, Sir,” she 
said with mock severity. “ You are afflicted with 
a monstrous bad temper, — therefore allowances must 
be made. This time I shall exercise leniency ; the 
next shall be the last!” She frowned, stamped 
her foot, and imitated my manner so ludicrously 

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that — though I felt a little uncomfortable — I was 
forced to laugh aloud. 

“ Nay, I fear I am too lenient. You must not 
escape without punishment. Surrender your sword, 
Sir. 

I surrendered. 

“ Oh ! ’tis very heavy,” she cried, with a most 
comic look of disappointment, as the point bent to 
the ground. “ Faith, I must use both hands, 1 fear.” 
Then she took her stand against a tree, and with 
arms locked over the hilt, and the point resting on 
the ground, she bowed her head upon her breast 
and looked frowningly off through the trees in the 
most laughable imitation of me. Suddenly she 
started up, listened for an instant, then sprang from 
her position and brandished the blade threateningly. 

I took the cue, and jumped back with : “ Oh ! you 
frightened me.” And then we both laughed until 
the park rang. 

“ Now, are you sufficiently punished?” Again 
she was trying to look severe. 

“ Nay, I fear not. You must do that again.” 

“ No ; that awful sword is too heavy. ’Tis more 
punishment to the innocent than to the wicked.” 
With both hands she pointed the weapon at me. 

“ That awful sword ? Oh, Madam, you are cruel ! 
Yes; for that good old blade and I have weathered 
many storms together. For more than ten years it 
has hung from my shoulder — always faithful, ready, 
and eager to defend. There ” — I pointed to a nick 

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near the hilt — “ is an old scar to bear witness of 
what I owe it. The blow that caused that gash was 
meant for me. I leave it there for old memory’s 
sake. That blade is no courtier’s toy, Madam, but 
a rough and — unless in the right hands — clumsy old 
warrior. No high-polished bauble, full of tricks and 
flourishes, but a true bit of steel, which never will 
fail.” 

“ I believe you love it.” She smiled gently. 

“ Love it ! I do. ’Tis all I ever have loved — it 
and — and — Toby.” 

She bent over the hilt and examined it very care- 
fully. “ Yes, ’tis a stout old blade,” she said quietly. 
Then she gave it back to me, — looking toward the 
arbour. “Are you coming this way \ ” Her voice 
had a strange tremble in it, and she did not look 
at me. 

“ I wonder if anything I said hurt her ? ” I 
muttered. Then I caught sight of her face. . . . 
she was smiling. 

As we passed through the opening in the hedge, 
a man-servant was talking with the maid, who 
pointed to the place from which we were coming. 
The man turned and came hastily toward us ; but 
when asked his business, he glanced at me uneasily, 
fingering his hat the while, and needs must again 
be commanded ere he would deliver his mes- 
sage. 

“ ’Tis a coach, Ma’am, that has just arrived,” says 
the fellow, still eyeing me anxiously. 

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“ Well, and is that all? ” Mistress Heron tapped 
her foot impatiently. 

“ And — and, may it please you, Ma’am, the 
Master told me to say, Ma’am, ” 

“ Yes, yes, and you have said it more than suffi- 
cient ! What is your message ? ” She stamped her 
foot in emphasis. 

The fellow took one last look at me, then, throwing 
caution to the winds — and breaking orders, I war- 
rant, — he said : 

“ The Master said, Ma’am, that you will please to 
come to him at the Hall.” 

“ Yes, yes — and the coach. Who came in the 
coach ? ” 

“ A gentleman, Ma’am. Lord — Lord — . I forget 
the name, Ma’am.” 

“ Return, and tell your Master that you have 
delivered your message,” I put in, for the lady 
turned to me appealingly. 

The fellow glanced at his Mistress. 

“ Go ! Must I speak twice ?” I shouted. . . . He 
vanished. 

“ Ha ! ” I puzzled, when we were seated and the 
maid dismissed. “ How comes he here ? Mon- 
mouth must have been outwitted.” 

“ Oh, now start my greatest troubles ! Do you 
think he has orders from the King to — take me 
away ? ” She was pale and trembling. 

“ If so, he has found a nice, warm, dry soil in 
which to lie,” I laughed savagely. 

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“ But the King’s orders ! ” 

“ I have not yet been told that his Lordship 
bears them. But if it should come to that, — there’s 
for the King and his orders.” I snapped my fingers 
in the air. 

“ But, oh, Sir, you know what that means to you ! 
Please promise me that you will not act rashly ! 
Come, you know you are inclined to be to rash ! 
And if you should come to grief on my account, I 
never could forgive myself ! Promise me, before 
you meet this man, that } 7 ou will be politic. Out- 
wit him, but do not leave yourself open to a serious 
charge ! ” Her voice was eloquent beyond descrip- 
tion, and her look beseeching and full of trouble. 

I smiled back reassuringly. “ Have no fear for 
me, Madam. Kings are not so difficult animals to 
manage as people are inclined to imagine. I have 
had much to do with them in my time, and have 
learned that a stiff upper lip has more power than 
a bended knee. Do not act with his Lordship as 
though you fear him, and I will look out for the 
rest.” 

At this moment Toby came up hastily. Halting, 
he touched his hat smartly, then stood motionless, 
awaiting my speech. 

“ Yes, Toby ? ” 

“ The Black Masque that escaped, I’ll be sworn, 
Sir. Calls himself Lord Cad — something. Just ar- 
rived in a coach, with but the coachman and one 
servant. He sent for me, Sir, and ordered me (Toby 

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Mark Everard 


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almost choked on the 4 ordered ’) to tell you to report 
to him at once, Sir.” He sniffed indignantly. 

I sprang to my feet — so did Mistress Heron, who 
fixed her eyes anxiously on my face. “Keturn, 
Toby, and tell his Lordship, with my compliments, 
to go to the devil. I take orders from no one.” 

Toby touched his hat and turned without a word. 

44 Toby ! ” I called, as he reached the path. 

44 Yes, Sir ! ” 

44 Deliver my message word for word, and be 
where I easily can find you in half an hour.” 

44 Yes, Sir ! ” And he was gone. 

44 Oh, dear, dear, such a hot-head ! I am unable 
to manage you ! ” She shook her head mournfully 
as she took her seat. But for all that, I could see 
she was glad his Lordship at last had met with a 
rebuff that would sorely wound his dignity. 

I said nothing, but, again taking my seat, pulled 
at my upper lip thoughtfully. 

44 But will Toby deliver your message as you told 
him ? ” she smiled. 

I laughed. 44 And it were the King himself, not 
a jot of amendment would Toby make.” 

She again shook her head. ‘ 4 "What a strange pair 
of men ! ” she said musingly. 44 Master and man — 
and how well matched ! ” Then she looked off 
across the stream, with a strange, half-sad little 
smile. 

And 1 sat twisting my mustaches — and won- 
dering. 


144 


CHAPTER IX. 


At the end of half an hour, when we emerged 
from the path and started to cross the lawn, we 
beheld Sir Alfred, arm and arm with the Earl, 
strolling to and fro before the house. 

Mistress Heron turned white of a sudden as she 
saw them, and then she drew closer to me, as though 
for protection. 

Then Sir Alfred caught sight of us, and the two 
stopped and, after a hasty glance toward us from 
Cadwaller, they entered into what seemed a most 
absorbing conversation ; for no notice did they take 
of our approach until we were within a dozen paces 
of them, when his Lordship turned with a start and 
at sight of us came forward, bending low, with hat 
in hand. 

“You see, Madam, how impossible is life at 
Whitehall now. Faith, we’ve been groping in the 
dark since our bright star fled ; but I saw it spark- 
ling in the east, and followed.” He attempted to 
take her hand as he finished this piece of nonsense, 
but the lady put her hands behind her back and 
bowed coldly, at which his Lordship turned red to 
the roots of his hair, and cried out, with a mighty 
poor attempt at a smile : 

“ Cruelty, thy name is woman ! Old William 
should have writ it so. ’Slife! were not ladies 

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to be judged by the opposite to their words and 
acts, my heart might well be heavy.” He laughed 
uneasily, and turned to Sir Alfred. “ I fear ’tis evil 
communications. You know what our old 
friend ” 

“ Toby ! ” I called aloud, seeing the little man 
standing a score of yards away. 

The Earl turned with a half muttered oath and 
stared at me with flashing eyes. Sir Alfred looked 
frightened, and drummed his fingers upon his snuff- 
box uneasily. His daughter seemed startled, and 
watched me anxiously. And Toby hastened to 
where we stood. 

“ Oh, Toby, I gave you a message some little 
while since. Do you remember ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir.” 

“ And did you deliver it ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir.” 

“ Very well, Toby — that will do.” 

Cad waller turned a deeper scarlet, and glared 
savagely, first at me, then at Toby. From me he 
got a straight stare, from Toby a good imitation 
of me. 

“ Ha, ha ! how very clever ! ’Od’s fish ! who 
would look for such wit in a brigand ? ’Pon my 
soul, Sir Alfred, you’ve made a find ! ” 

“ Fie, fie, my Lord ! you would make me your 
equal. Believe me, I am not so ambitious.” 

“ What the devil does he mean, Sir Alfred ? My 
rough journey has muddled my wits.” 

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“ Come, come, gentlemen, no quarreling ! Ke- 
member the servants ! ” Sir Alfred anxiously put in. 
“ And you, Virginia, — I understand not your 
rudeness to his Lordship, to whom we owe so much. 
I give you to understand that it will be through Lord 
Cad waller’s good offices that we shall escape from 
the embarrassing position in which we now stand. 
And it will be more becoming to drop this absurd 
reserve, and treat with due respect the nobleman 
whose wife you soon shall be.” As he finished he 
glanced at me, as though what he said was meant 
for the ears of more than his daughter. 

Her face was pale as she made reply, but she held 
her head high and spoke with such a calm dignity 
that it gave what she said a power far beyond what 
one would expect from a sorely troubled maiden. 

“ Lord Cad waller has received from me all the 
courtes} r that I owe him, — ay, and more. You say 
that through his good offices we shall escape from 
our difficulties. If I mistake not, ’twas partly 
through his good offices that we fell into them. You 
speak of him as the nobleman whose wife I soon 
shall be. To that both you and he have had my 
answer before, — and that answer is — never — do you 
hear ? — Never , my Lord ! ” And she turned to Cad- 
waller and cast at him a glance of unspeakable 
contempt. 

“ Silence, you hussy ! ” Sir Alfred choked, purple 
with rage. “Damnation! am I to be ruined by 
the caprices of a child ? ’Slife ! you would send me 

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to the block for the sake of a senseless whim. Into 
the house, now ! I see I must treat you as I should 
have long since ! ” 

I swear before Heaven, had he not been her 
father, I should have run him through ere he had 
half finished his abuse! So, so contemptible a 
creature for a father ! — and her father ! As it was, 
my hand swept to my hilt by impulse. 

Even Cadwaller seemed less a brute, — or it may 
have been his trickery that prompted his apparent 
kindness. “ Hay, nay,” he said ; “ you are too 
harsh with the maiden, Sir Alfred ! I pray you be 
more indulgent. They are all alike, — ever ready to 
shy at what is for their good. They must be 
treated with kindness. Your daughter is but a 
lass, Sir, and must needs have her fling. Her 
heart is right, I’ll be sworn ! Come, old war- 
horse, you have made her weep, I’ll warrant ! How 
go after and let her not spoil those pretty eyes.” 
He poked Sir Alfred in the ribs with his thumb, 
and shoved him gently by the shoulders. 

My position was unenviable. I had no right to 
interfere between father and daughter, though I was 
resolved that in the end the daughter should have 
justice. I was forced, therefore, to say nothing 
just then, but I ground my teeth and swore within 
me that I would make her persecutors pay dearly for 
their work. Sir Alfred was an overbearing old 
coward and fool, who could put on a mighty daring 
and insolent front, — when he felt sure of strong 

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backing. Lord Cadwaller, I perceived, was a low 
animal, confident of his power, who was possessed 
of a cunning of a certain sort, which made him a 
dangerous opponent. That Sir Alfred was com- 
pletely under his influence was evident. Together 
they made a most difficult pair of knaves to 
manage. . . . And behind all I could see the swarthy 
shadow of the King. And here was I — and Toby — 
to face them all. But with us I felt a great force — 
’twas the will of a maiden that no power of evil 
could shake. I filled with admiration as I thought 
of the answer she had given her father and this 
menial of the King. The indignation that was boil- 
ing within my heart made me not inclined to treat 
his Lordship with great consideration. 

“ How,” he said, when Sir Alfred was out of 
earshot, “ we may talk, Sir.” 

“ Yes, my Lord, I think it well that we should 
have some little understanding.” 

He stroked his jaw thoughtfully, and watched the 
setting sun for a moment. Then he said : “ What 
say you, Sir? — shall we walk or speak within 
doors ? 19 

“ Walk.” And we started back toward the 
arbour. 

“ How, Master Everard, in the first place, 1 must 
inform you that your services to the King are at an 
end.” He paused and glanced at me, as though 
expecting some comment; but I made none. “His 
Majesty is well pleased, I think, with your work, 

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and will doubtless be liberal in his reward.” Again 
the Earl paused to watch the effect of his words. 
“ This business has been, from the first to last, no 
more than a huge misunderstanding, with an attempt 
by an enemy of Sir Alfred to give the affair an air 
of gravity. The plans of this malicious person 
have been defeated, however, and the King has 
come to see plainly that Sir Alfred has been 
standing in a false light, cast on him by this other.” 
He walked on in silence, his hands behind him. 

I said nothing, but thought quickly ; — and in 
another moment we reached the arbour. Seating 
myself carelessly, and crossing my legs, I looked 
off to the other bank, as usual, and twisted my 
mustaches in silence ; w r hile his Lordship stood 
drumming his fingers upon the back of a seat before 
me. Presently I threw back my head and laughed 
aloud. Cadwaller started as though I had dealt 
him a blow, but quickly recovered his self-possession. 

“ What the devil ? ” said he, and then broke 

off. 

“ Zounds, my Lord ! ’tis amusing, upon my soul ! ” 

“What? — ah, yes, very. Ha, ha!” he laughed 
feebly. Then his face became severe, as though 
he thought he lacked dignity. 

“Yes, my Lord, is it not strange that every set of 
conspirators must have its fool, whoever pays the 
cost ? ” 

“ I fear I understand you not, my man.” 

I took no notice of his insulting manner. “ For 

* 5 ° 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


the benefit of your Lordship, then, I shall speak in 
plainer terms. I say ’tis strange that every band of 
conspirators — or brigands, if you prefer that name 
— should have its Sir Alfred, who pays the penalty 
for all.” 

He swore most foully. “ What the devil do you 
mean by these riddles ? Sir Alfred a fool, forsooth ! 
and paying the penalty for all! You are more 
madman than knave, Sir, I warrant. But have a 
care how you insult me. You know not the length 
of my arm.” 

“ Bah, my Lord ! you have no arm of your own ! 
You are but the dog of the King — a King Charles 
spaniel, by Heaven ! and must dance as he 
fiddles ! Come, come, my Lord, Mistress G wynne 
has taught you well, but this acting has no weight 
with me. Cast it aside. I am in no mood for high 
words, and may lose patience.” 

His sword flew from its scabbard, and calling me 
a foul name, he stepped forward. 

I sprang to my feet, and a spark flew from our 
meeting blades. Cadwaller’s back was to the stream 
and as he retreated from my first lunge, he felt the 
slope of the bank. He swung round with great 
lightness of foot, that I might not have this advan- 
tage, and by that, I believe, saved my life. For as 
I turned with him, still engaged, the last gleam of 
red from the western sky fell upon the hedge, now 
behind my antagonist. There it was, peering over— 
the sallow, corpse-like face of that devil J ulius. A 

I 5 I 


Mark Everard 


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♦ 


chill ran through me as I beheld it, and the same 
uncontrollable rage that always came to me when I 
looked upon this creature, suddenly possessed me. At 
that moment Cad waller’s foot struck against the 
leg of a seat, and he fell backward to the ground. I 
sprang toward the hedge, but the face disappeared 
ere I had taken a step. I peered over, but the 
gathering shadows made too deep a screen, and I 
could see but a little way beyond. It was useless to 
follow, I knew ; and the thought came to me that 
the Earl might misinterpret my act, were I to leave 
him without explanation. So I turned again to his 
Lordship w T ith a mind to let loose my rage upon 
him. 

He stood with sheathed blade beside the seat that 
had caused his fall. “ I am injured from my acci- 
dent, Master Everard, and am therefore unable to 
continue our contest. So soon as my arm shall have 
recovered sufficiently I shall kill you — by God, I 
shall ! ” His eyes blazed, and he held his head bent 
forward, as one that meant his words. Indeed he 
had a dignity about him, this knave, and was far 
from being the fool he at times tried to lead one to 
think him. He cut a fine figure as he stood by the 
rustic bench, his spotless ruffles and fine plumes 
giving him an air and a grace not displeasing, even 
though he was something overdressed. 

“ Had I died every time I have been told that, my 
Lord, I now should be but the faintest fragment of 
a worn-out ghost, more full of perforations than a 

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<* 


pin-cushion,” I smiled, my anger subsiding when I 
saw that he had no intention of renewing our little 
difference. 

Of course you must not for a moment think that I 
believed him to be injured — in fact, I knew his story 
to be but a lie, for I had seen him fall fairly upon 
the soft grass. He had some other reason for thus 
excusing himself, I knew, but what that reason was, 
could only be conjectured. What first occurred to 
me was cowardice ; but if this were true, why had 
he drawn his blade, knowing, as he doubtless did, my 
skill in swordsmanship ? Ho, the fear of being in- 
jured was not the reason. When he had taken time 
to think the matter over, during my rush to the 
hedge, he came to the conclusion that it was foolish 
to take the risk of spoiling his game, when his pur- 
pose could better be accomplished by strategy. He 
looked not the coward, but the calculating trickster 
who was too clever to use force where finesse would 
accomplish his purpose. 

He looked at me strangely for a little space, and 
I could see in his eyes that a struggle was taking 
place within him. As a man experienced in the 
ways of all kinds of men, I had no great difficulty 
in reading his new plan. He thought he now knew 
me and had discovered my weakness. 

“ You area brave man, Master Everard,” says he 
very slowly, and with a good shade of admiration in 
his voice, “but with sad failing. You are over- 
reckless, ’Tis a pity that a man of your parts 

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* 

should so disregard his opportunities ! ” And his 
Lordship sighs heavily and seats himself. 

“ Faith, my Lord, I miss your meaning,” I replied 
with a great show of interest. 

He shook his head and went on, as though more 
to himself than me. “ Brave men always arouse my 
admiration. But when they are of so careless and 
independent a disposition that they will quarrel 
with their own bread, one is tempted to let them 
take their own course, which is in the end their un- 
doing.” He paused for a moment and stroked his 
jaw, as was his habit, while I smiled behind my 
hand and resolved to let him take his own way. 
“ Why,” he resumed, “ one man is known to me 
who has in his keeping a thing that’s worth a 
dozen fortunes, yet I’ll be sworn he knows not how 
to extract therefrom the wealth and power that all 
men so covet. ’Slife ! ’tis a pity ! And yet he is 
possessed of great courage, skill and wit. One can 
but admire such a man ; but after cool considera- 
tion, he’s blamable, yes, upon my soul, ’tis a waste ! ” 
And the Earl brought down his clenched right hand 
upon his knee, by way of emphasis. 

“ I rejoice to see that your sword-arm has recov- 
ered, my Lord,” I smiled. 

“ ’Tis but injured for fence ; for social purposes 
’tis quite sound,” he returned carelessly. 

“ But this person of whom you speak — is there no 
one that will instruct him as to how he should use 
this all-powerful knowledge ? ” I was leading him on. 

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Mark Everard 


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“ ’Twere dangerous, I warrant, to offer him a 
suggestion. But if I were his friend, I should advise 
him to hold his secret fast, and not permit a word 
of it to pass his lips.” 

“ Zooks ! my Lord, but this must be a most 
strange secret. You say that with his knowledge 
he can purchase wealth and power, and yet he may 
not impart this secret to another. I confess, ’tis 
beyond my comprehension.” 

The Earl smiled knowingly. Then he faced me, 
and in a low and confidential tone went on : “You 
see, this brave and witty, but uncautious, soldier 
holds a secret that, he thinks, would compromise a 
person of high standing, who enjoys the friendship 
of the King, were he to impart this knowledge to 
his Majesty.” 

“ Whereas ” I put in. 

“ Precisely. You are a gentleman of perception, 
as well as of courage, Sir. Whereas, as you say, 
the King would give the tale no credence ; and, 
instead of rewarding this most courageous gentle- 
man, would cast him off as the slanderer of his 
friend.” ILe paused and watched my face anxiously, 
his long, white fingers stroking his pointed chin 
slowly, yet uneasily. 

“ Granted. What follows ? ” 

“ Besides thus losing the favour of the King, this 
gentleman would make an enemy of his Majesty’s 
friend, who, for some time past, has wielded an 


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influence that is in strength the second in the land, — 
an influence ever increasing. 

“ Yes, yes, my Lord, — but the alternative, — this 
road to wealth* and power? ” 

“ Ah ! ” he smiled, with sparkling eyes, “ now 
we come to a vastly different picture, — a picture in 
colours as bright as those of the other are dark, — a 
canvas of broader dimensions, and one more happy 
of contemplation.” 

I bowed and leaned forward, for he spoke very 
low and glanced around through the gathering 
shadows, to make sure that no third person was 
there. 

“ Should this gentleman, this soldier of whom we 
are speaking, choose another course— the alternative, 
as you say — he would still retain the good will of 
the King, to whom he has rendered faithful service, 
and besides, make a friend of this nobleman, who 
otherwise would be his enemy. This, then, opens 
up a career for the holder of this little secret — a 
career to the possibilities of which there is practically 
no limitation.” 

“ You use strong terms, my Lord.” 

“ Yet not more strong than the ability of the 
King’s friend to fulfil his promises.” 

“ And the promises? — I mean in plain terms.” 

“ There are many high offices at Court, all of 
which mean a life of luxury and power. But if the 
tastes of this soldier should not run in this channel, 
why then, there are some fine estates within the gift 


Mark Everard 


« 


# 


of the Crown. I know of one, at least, that is worth 
three thousand a year. But I only name this as an 
example. There are many, very many, alternatives, 
Master Everard, that one in high favour may take.” 

“ And would it not seem strange, even to this 
blunt soldier, that his little secret should be of such 
worth, my Lord ? Might not the thought occur to 
him that if it was of so much consequence to the 
King’s friend that this secret should be kept, it must 
have a power to harm the nobleman, if it should be 
told ? Then, my Lord, when this curiosity is once 
aroused, he would doubtless think that the King’s 
friend has some deeper object than lavish generosity' 
in paying so high a price for so little a thing ? In 
other words, he might think that the other has need 
of his services.” 

“ ’Od’s fish, Sir ! you are a master of discernment. 
You have struck the nail upon the head. There is 
a little service that the King’s friend would like to 
have done him, but ’tis so small that I had over- 
looked it. Faith, when one comes to examine it 
closely, it proves to be nothing more than that the 
soldier will attend to his own business. In other 
w T ords, as you say, all that is required of him is that 
he leave the place where he now is, and journey to 
— sa y — London, where he will be pleased to remain 
for a few days.” He leaned back in his seat and 
watched me through half-closed lids. Then he 
laughed a little forcedly. “ ’Tis a mighty small 
condition to attach to so great a reward, upon my 

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soul. I cannot understand any sane man even 
stopping to consider, — especially when its rejec- 
tion means the withdrawal of all reward, and the 
enmity of the King’s friend.” He ended the threat 
very deliberately, still stroking his chin on every 
word. 

“ And this enmity of the King’s friend, — what is 
its consequence ? ” 

“ In this case, it is equivalent to death.” 

“ But there are others to whom the secret is 
known.” 

(( Quite so ; but those persons — for reasons known 
to me — are unable to impart it to another.” 

“ So this blunt soldier is a person of some im- 
portance ? ” 

“ You mistake me, Sir. ’Tis the absence of this 
courageous gentleman that is of such importance. 
Quite a different matter, is it not, Sir ? And his 
absence can be assured in two ways.” 

The coolness of the scoundrel aroused a kind of 
admiration within me, — an admiration for his 
daring insolence — though at the same time I had to 
keep a curb on my anger, lest I should break loose 
and spit the knave as he sat watching me with a 
smile of careless tolerance, while in his speech he 
assured me of my fate in case 1 should not sell my 
honour to him. 

I sat silent for a moment, then said : “ You have 
told me that my services to the King are at an end. 
Have you an order from his Majesty ? ” 


♦ 


Mark Everard 




He drew forth a packet and handed it to me in 
silence. 

There was not sufficient light now to read by, so 
I did not break the seal. 

“ You have not yet expressed your opinion as to 
the opportunities of this soldier, Sir,” says the Earl, 
as I arose and started for the path. 

“ Ho, my Lord ; for there are times when the 
tongue is too weak for the purpose, and yet we have 
reasons for not using a sharper instrument. How- 
ever, since you ask, I will say this : If I were the 
supposed soldier of whom we were speaking, and 
you should chance to be the other — the King’s 
friend, — and you were to offer me the rewards you 
named, and on the same conditions, I should have a 
great struggle with myself to keep from spitting 
you for a damned knave, to whom honour is un- 
known.” I faced him fairly as I spoke and thrust 
my jaw within a foot of his, and when I had finished, 
put my hand upon my hilt, that he might have no 
excuse for hesitation. 

He stared back at me savagely for a moment, then 
burst into a mocking laugh. 

“ Ha ! ha ! I might have known ! Sir Alfred’s not 
such a fool after all, Sir ! Ha ! ha ! how laughable ! 
Well, well, you have yourself to thank. I would 
have saved you, in return for the service you have 
done me in defeating the plans of Monmouth’s 
puppy— Sir Charles Rawley— ; but you will not 
have it so.” 


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“ Yes,” I said through clenched teeth, “ I defeated 
the plans of the puppy ; — I shall do likewise with 
those of the dog ! ” 

His hand flew to his hilt, but he did not draw. 
“ My arm is not yet sound, Master Brigand. Abide, 
abide, Sir ; — your fate is sealed.” 

I kept an eye on him, and side by side we walked 
toward the house. Then he halted suddenly, turned 
quickly, and looked back. I did likewise. All was 
still, and the path clear, though 1 heard a sound as 
of a stealthy footstep. I well knew what it was, 
and could picture that death-like face behind the 
hedge. Then on the other side of the path I heard 
a rustling sound, which quickly died out in the 
distance. I twisted my mustaches over it, but could 
make nothing of it. 

On the last terrace before the house Cadwaller 
again stopped. “ So you are resolved to remain 
here ? ” he asked. 

“ Until I have a mind to leave, Master Spaniel.” 

He laughed. “ Then you will dance at my wed- 
ding ? ” he sneered. 

“ I make no engagements for the next world. 
’Tis a superstition I have, my Lord.” 

His sneer became broader, and his laugh more 
malicious. “ ’Slife ! ” he said slowly, “ Sir Alfred 
has had his eyes open. Ha ! ha ! Bottom, by 
Heaven ! But remember, Master Bottom, you may 
play one part only. And for that part you have 
been cast.” 

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“ A dream — only a dream, good Spaniel ! ” 

“ Rot me ! but I will make it a reality/’ 

“ But in this dream of yours, Master Menial— ah, 
Spaniel, I mean — you must lend me your head.” 

He was about to make reply, but at that moment 
Sir Alfred came forth hastily, so the Earl stepped 
forward to meet him. 

Our host was excited. “ Strike me dead, my 
Lord, but things have come to a pretty pass ! ” 
cried he. 

“ How now, Sir Alfred — what’s amiss ? ” 

“ My authority seems to have vanished. Hot a 
trace can I find of my daughter, my Lord. Spit 
me ! but she defies me past endurance. And both 
you gentlemen heard me order her to her room ! I 
trust, my Lord, you will overlook these annoyances 

for my sake ; but I confess ” 

Cadwaller burst out a-laughing. “ Why, Sir 
Alfred, the lass is but playing a sly trick ! There, 
she but now stepped back from that window. Come, 
come, Sir Alfred, you must not take a maiden with 
too great a seriousness.” 

“ Ah ! ” sighed Sir Alfred, as he hooked his arm 
into that of his Lordship, “ I shall feel relieved of a 
great responsibility when all is settled, my Lord. Hot 
because I have no love for my daughter — think not 
that for a moment — quite the contrary, I assure 
you ; but, you see, she understands not the gravity 
of my position, and consequently she keeps me in a 
state of great anxiety, lest some of her caprices 
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Mark Everard 


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should not be interpreted aright by you, my 
Lord.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! have no fear, my dear Sir Alfred. 
Faith, I understand women.” 

“ And rats, my Lord ? ” I put in. 

“ How damn you ! your insolence is unbearable ! ” 
he cried, starting to draw. 

“ Hay, nay, my Lord ! ” put in Sir Alfred. “ Ho 
quarreling now ! ” Then he whispered something in 
the other’s ear. “ And you, Master Everard, be at 
peace with his Lordship. Come. w T e all must be 
good friends to-night, for Master Everard leaves us 
in the morning, I hear.” 

“You shall have time to bid me adieu, Sir,” I 
shrugged, and strolled into the house. 


162 


CHAPTER X. 


In the hall I broke the seal of the parchment 
given me by the Earl, and read. ’Twas a royal 
command, which ordered me to release the persons 
of Sir Alfred Heron and his daughter from arrest, 
to betake myself to London, where I should report 
to the King at Whitehall, after his return from 
Dover. 

“ Dover ! ” I muttered. “ So the King already is 
at Dover ! ” Then I again looked at the date, and 
noticed that the order was four days old. “ Ha ! 
why this delay ? ” I wondered. “ Strange that so 
determined a villain as Cadwaller would delay after 
having the King’s order. Well, well, there must be 
a reason. . . . What? I wonder — what?” I refolded 
the order and put it in my pocket, turned — and 
faced Mistress Heron, who stood watching me with 
anxious eyes. 

“ What is it ? ” she almost whispered, glancing 
toward the door apprehensively. 

“ An order from the King, which bids me to re- 
lease my prisoners and betake myself to London. 
’Tis dated at Dover, four days since.” 

“ Quick — in here.” She led the way into the 
room in which the stormy conversation between Sir 

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•r 


4 


4 


Alfred and her, on the morning Sir Charles returned 
to London, had taken place. She crossed to the 
window and peeped out. “ They still are talking. 
Now, why did yon fight him ? ” 

“ Fight him ? — when ? ” I puzzled. 

She shook her finger at me. “ Come, be truthful. 
Why — did — you — fight — him ? ” 

I twisted my mustaches perplexedly, wondering 
what she could know of it. 

“ I have not had time to speak to Julius,” she 
smiled. 

“ But — how ? ” 

“ Yes, yes, I saw and heard all, Sir. And I had 
asked you not to quarrel with him ! ” she reproved. 

“ So that was the rustling I heard when return- 
ing ! ” 

“ Yes. I feared that something of the kind 
would happen, so I followed. Ah ! you are incor- 
rigible.” She sighed, but smiled as she turned 
away. 

“ But I merely defended myself.” 

“ A school-boy’s excuse ! ” she mocked. “ But, I 
confess, I enjoyed it.” 

“ And I too, though I lost my temper at the 
last.” 

She smiled, then became grave w T ith the next 
breath. “ But what do you intend to do ? ” 

“ When ? ” 

“ Now, Sir, now ! I mean about going to Lon- 
don.” 


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“ Well, Madam, I have not yet even thought of 
it.” 

“ But — but will you go ? ” Her voice faltered a 
little. 

“ Only when you command.” 

“ But the King ? ” 

“ The King is occupied at Dover.” 

“ Yes, yes ; but his order ? ” 

“ Were he here, I should feel inclined to send the 
same message to him as I sent to the Earl.” 

Her face showed great anxiety, but when I said 
this, she half laughed. 

“ But tell me,” she said, after a moment’s pause, 
“ whv you frown so. Have I — have I displeased 
you ? ” 

“ Ho, no, Madam — far from it ! You could not 
displease me! You — you — Ho, you have not dis- 
pleased me.” I broke off abruptly and strode to the 
window. 

They still were talking, but as I looked they 
slowly started toward the door. 

I turned to the lady. “ Remember, Madam, what 
I already have said : show no sign that will tell this 
knave that you fear him.” 

“ Ho,” she replied bravely, — though she did not 
look at me. 

“ And when you have entered your chamber to- 
night, lock the door, and open to none — not even 
to your father or your maid — until morning.” 

“ Ho.” 


Mark Everard 


♦ 


♦ 


“ I expect no danger to-night, Madam ; but ’tis 
well to take every precaution.” 

“ Yes.” She looked up for an instant, then, as I 
passed into the hall, she turned to the window. 

I scarcely had time to hasten to a chair beside 
the table and assume a careless attitude, when they 
entered, still talking confidentially. 

Sir Alfred seemed surprised to find me there, but 
the Earl passed on with scarce a look, and started 
up the stairs. At the first landing he turned. “ I 
shall be ready in a moment, Sir Alfred,” he said. 

“ Yery well, my Lord,” the other returned, 
bowing and rubbing one hand over the other. 

I could hear our host giving orders for the serving 
of supper. 

A few moments later, when I stepped forth from 
my room, I came face to face with his Lordship. 

“ Did you read the King’s command ? ” he asked, 
civilly enough. 

“ I did.” 

“ And ? ” he questioned. 

“ ’Tis something old in date, my Lord.” 

I watched the effect of my words. He looked 
uneasy, I’ll be sworn ; but he was too clever a knave 
to reveal much by his expression. 

“ Yes ? ” he sneered. 

“ Yes, my Lord ; and will need repeating ere I 
take the responsibility of acting on it.” 

“ And may I ask why ? ” 

“ Circumstances may have changed since ’twas 

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written, my Lord. “ Yea, I’ll be sworn they have 
changed.” 

“ You are very vague, Sir.” 

“ You see, my Lord, there are many hands in this 
game ; the stakes are considerable ; the play rapid.” 

“ I do not follow you, my dear Sir.” 

“ No ? Well, to be brief, one cannot run the 
chance of staking on an old deal. I have lost the 
fire of extreme youth, so play with a quiet caution.” 

“ You play a fool’s game, Sir, and speak in 
riddles.” 

“ You hold a hand in the game, my Lord.” 

He shrugged his shoulders ; and together we went 
down the stairs to supper. 

As we reached the lower hall, Sir Alfred and his 
daughter came forth from the room in which I 
had left her. The face of the former was flushed 
and angry, of the latter, pale and determined. 
But at the sight of the Earl, Sir Alfred mastered 
his anger, and, smiling and bowing, led the way to 
the supper-room. 

’Twas a strange company we made. The Earl 
tried to ignore all that had passed, but there was an 
anxiety and restlessness about him that I had not 
observed before ; and after several fruitless attempts 
to start a conversation with Mistress Heron, he 
lapsed into a sullen silence, from which even 
our host’s attempts at wit could not draw him. Sir 
Alfred was embarrassed by the manner of his 
Lordship, and soon followed the other’s example. 

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4 


This made the quartette almost speechless; for 
Mistress Heron and I said barely a word from first 
to last— she ignoring all remarks addressed to her, 
and I keeping silent that I might the better form 
my plans. Doubtless the Earl had a reason similar 
to my own, for several times I caught him looking 
intently at me from under his brows, with a sort 
of puzzled expression. 

“ It seems as though I made a good guess when 
I suggested that circumstances have changed since 
the King’s order was dated,” I thought. “ What, 
what, I wonder, is taking place at Dover. Some- 
thing that does not please the King’s friend over 
well, I warrant.” Then the Little Duke came to 
my mind. “ His Lordship seems to lack confidence 
in something. I wonder if he fears that Monmouth 
will succeed in overthrowing him, during his 
absence. That order, four days old. . . . Ha ! 
something very urgent prevented his delivering it. 
Now, what that something was must be discovered. 
But how — how ? Ha ! I must ask the Little Duke. 
I now regret that I offended him that night at the 
inn. And there is Sir Charles, too, his man, my 
enemy. Yes, yes, I must see Monmouth, and he 
will explain these mysteries to me. And if he will 
not — ah ! why then, — he must. I see now — the 
Earl is uneasy ; wherefore he will not wish to be 
long separated from the King. I must act the 
quicker, then. I first shall talk with this old fool — 
which I know will be useless, — then I must move 

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quickly. Ha! ha! ray Lord, I believe you have 
betrayed yourself, just by that uneasiness over so 
little a thing as the date of an order. Zooks ! 
you are a handsome knave. How, if I had that 

face, without the sneer, I might ” I broke off my 

musing, for — for my mind was running away from 
the plan I was forming. 

As we rose from the table, Sir Alfred, after- 
a glance at me, turned to his daughter and 
said sternly : “ You will kindly withdraw now 
to your room, and will not again leave it to- 
night.” 

She bit her lip at the insult, but turned without 
a word and did as directed. 

Cadwaller looked inquiringly at Sir Alfred ; the 
other nodded, and the two started toward the hall, 
giving me no more attention than if I had not 
existed. 

“ Sir Alfred,” I said, as they reached the door. 

He stopped and looked back with insulting sur- 
prise, and answered nothing. 

“ I must speak with you,” I added. 

He whispered something to Cadwaller, then 
turned back with a look of impatience. 

I stepped to the door and closed it behind his 
Lordship, then went to the other, which I opened, 
to see that no servant was near. After again closing 
this, I turned to my unwilling host. 

“ Sir Alfred,” I said quietly, “ I intend ,to speak 
to you in very plain terms.” 


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4 


“ ’Tis a habit you have, Sir, and springs from 
your ignorance,” he answered roughly. 

“ Be that as it may, Sir, so I shall speak to 
you.” 

“ Then make haste, and presume not too far on my 
patience.” Sir Alfred had discovered a great cour- 
age since his Lordship’s arrival. 

“ I have heard you say twice that your daughter 
shall be married to Lord Cadwaller, and yet she de- 
tests him, and has assured you that she never will 
consent to the alliance.” 

“ You accursed meddler ! ” he cried, “ do you ex- 
pect me to listen to such presumption ? ” He made 
a move as .though to pass me. 

“ Wait, Sir Alfred,” I said quietly, hut firmly, 
at the same time stepping directly in front of him; 
“ you shall hear what I have to say. When I have 
done, you may leave at your pleasure.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! — may I ? How very kind ! ” 

“ That depends upon your then intentions. It 
may prove to he a cruelty.” 

He looked as though he might explode with in- 
dignation; hut he did nothing hut take snuff im- 
patiently. 

“ How, Sir Alfred,” I continued, “ I gave you 
credit for taking the course that you have taken, 
partly through ignorance of what your daughter’s 
fate will he in case you succeed in carrying out your 
base proposal.” 


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He seemed ready to fall down in a fit from anger ? 
but he stood still, glaring at me with bulging eyes, 
his nostrils expanded like those of a war-horse. 

“ Come, Sir, I shall show you that which evidently 
has escaped your eye in this much mixed matter. In 
the first place, you became alarmed because of the 
King’s attentions to your daughter. You resolved 
that she should leave the Court, but feared the King’s 
strong opposition. The Duke of Monmouth, for 
reasons that are best known to himself, came to your 
rescue. He proposed the abduction, and Lord Cad- 
waller most kindly consented to assist you. But many 
other plots and counterplots were working, — but into 
these we need not go, as their work is now accom- 
plished, and their results are sufficient to require all 
my attention.” 

“ You are tiresome, Sir, and only show me how far 
my daughter has fallen, when she takes a common ad- 
venturer into her confidence.” His voice shook with 
rage, but he spoke in low tones, as though he did not 
wish the Earl to overhear what he said. 

“ Now, Sir, I wish you to follow me closely. You 
consider your daughter’s honour in danger because 
of the King. Lord Cadwaller is the King’s most 
/intimate friend — you follow me, Sir? — and you 
would marry your daughter to his Lordship.” 

The door behind me opened ; I turned ; there stood 
the Earl upon the threshold, an evil smile about his 
lips. 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


“ You are ,too patient, Sir Alfred,” he said, as he 
entered and closed the door. “ F aith, the head of 
this fellow has been turned by your consideration. 
Give him but another day, and he’ll say wha,t changes 
he desires to be made in your household. ’Od’s fish ! 
he’s so sure of his ownership here that one knows not 
what next to expect. Tell me, Sir Alfred, which 
of you gentlemen is now my host — I would know to 
whom I’m indebted for my entertainment.” And he 
took a step back and bowed deeply to me. 

Sir Alfred stood speechless. He glared unspeak- 
able hate at me; and when Cadwaller spoke, he 
seemed to hear him not. His face was purple, the 
veins of his neck and temples stood out like whip- 
cords, and his hand clutched at his band to relieve 
the strain. I feared for his life, so stepped to a 
window and swung it open. As I did so, the sound 
of the bell at the porter’s lodge quivered very faintly 
on the night. I glanced quickly at the Earl and Sir 
Alfred, bu,t no sign did either show of having heard 
it. The former was staring fixedly at the latter, who 
still stood holding his band from his short, thick neck. 
Then our host put his hand to his head, and moved 
unsteadily to the door. 

“ Come, — my Lord, come — with me,” he muttered 
Together they passed out, crossed the hall, and en- 
tered the room from which he and his daughter had 
come forth to supper. 

There was no sound from beyond this door for 

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some moments, .then the heavy, uneven step that I 
knew to be Sir Alfred's began pacing back and forth. 
I listened for the sound of voices, but they did not 
come. Then I remembered the bell. It seemed to 
carry in its mystic voice a message — mayhap a 
threat. I went up the stairs quietly and got my hat. 
Returning, I halted by the door of the room in which 
the two knaves were. Sir Alfred was talking ex- 
citedly, in short and broken sentences, interrupted 
by the soft, insinuating voice of Cadwaller. Their 
words were killed by the heavy door — 'twas but a 
murmur I heard. 

“ And now, to be the first to greet the late visitor/' 
I muttered, and stepped forth into the bright moon- 
light. 


173 


CHAPTER XI. 


At the branch in the main drive I halted and 
listened. Ho sound came from the direction of the 
gates. “ Strange/’ I thought. “ They have had 
ample .time to come the distance, if they were ad- 
mitted. If they did not get in, the bell would have 
told me.” Again I listened carefully. This time 
I thought I heard a sound as of a horse’s feet upon 
the bridge. Yes, there it was, very faint, coming 
from the right through the trees as a whisper. I 
turned from the path and started toward the little 
bridge at which Mistress Heron fed her fishes. 
’Twas necessary to go with great caution, for evi- 
dently the visitor was attemptng to escape observation, 
or he would not have chosen so indirect a path. As 
I approached the bridge, I stopped several times and 
strained my ears to catch a sound. Hot the faintest 
movement could I hear. I stepped into the little 
path and, stooping, searched for a footprint. By 
the moonlight one could see almost as distinctly as 
by day. . . . There in the fine gravel were the marks 
of the horse’s feet. I tried to follow them, but the 
shadows thrown by the trees across the path made this 

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impossible. I calculated the time since I had heard 
him upon the bridge. To me it seemed about five 
minutes. “ Very well,” I muttered, “ in five 
minutes he could reach the house. He is there 
now. ...” I started up the path. I had taken but a 
score of paces, when a small bird came fluttering un- 
certainly toward me, dodging from one side to the 
other, searching in the unaccustomed light for a safe 
hiding-place. It flew almost against me — then, with 
a little squeak, swung gracefully into the protecting 
leaves of a bush at the path-side. 

“ Ha ! my little friend, so you are frightened.” 
I stopped and glanced around. “ How, what could 
have alarmed you so greatly ? ? Tis late, I swear, for 
you sail thus abroad. And \tis but this moment 
you were awakened so rudely, for you would not 
travel far, methinks, in this strange, mystic light.” 
Another flutter of wings, and a second little feathered 
thing dived into the bushes at the other side. 
“ Zooks ! I must be a great attraction, my friends. 
Another, and yet another ! What ! do you still come ? 
Oh, ho! there must be some campaign against you. 
Very well; just step under my wing, and fear 
nothing. I soon shall be called ,the father of Kent. 
Zounds ! I seem to be the only man here not bent on 
destruction. Your hands seem determined to be full 
of trouble, Mark Everard ; even the birds fly to you 
for safety. You have not enough to look after al- 
ready, but you needs must find more. Trouble! 

*75 


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* 


Ha ! ha ! I like it — Tis my life. But this time it is 
different It hurts, this time — it hurts.” 

I walked on with bowed head, forgetful of the 
birds. There was a subtle something somewhere — 
it seemed in the air, or the moonbeams — that brought 
a strange, half -sadness to me. ? Twas something of 
the nature of the gloomy spells that had laid hold on 
me since I had come to Heron Hall; but not so 
melancholy — it had a strange sweetness about it that 
made me not wish to shake it off. I soon was lost 
completely in my thoughts. The incident of the 
frightened birds, which I had resolved to trace to its 
source, was forgotten. I wandered aimlessly on, my 
hands behind me, and my eyes fixed on the little, 
winding strip of gravel. Sometimes I stopped to 
stare off through the moonlight, or to gasp in the cool, 
pure, flower-scented air; sometimes I halted by a 
bush of blooms, and scattered petals on the ground, 
with thoughts far from my occupation. And all the 
while my mind ran on through unaccustomed dreams. 
There was some strange spell upon me — a spell of 
peace and good-will. ’Twas a witchery of the night. 
’Twas soft and calm and sweet. But somewhere in 
it was a taste of gall — a subtle something thal gnawed 
most slyly at the heart, and made the throat to ache. 
? Twas a grea,t calm storm — a meeting of opposing 
forces, that made no move, for each endured the 
strain. Within me Twas as the night without — a 
grand stillness, tk*t throbbed wi,th some unknown 
and penf-up force. 


176 


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* 


How long my dream lasted, I cannot tell, but it 
must have been some considerable time, for when I 
awoke the moon was much farther up ;the sky than 
when I had stood by the little- bridge. I was stand- 
ing with my back against a tree, and gazing at a 
window on the second floor of the house. The cur- 
tain was raised, and I imagined — nay, I was sure — 
I saw a small, white face looking out into the moon- 
light. It moved a little, once or twice, as though 
changing the resting-place of the chin from one hand 
to the other. Then the face vanished, — and it was 
a,t this moment I awakened with a hand upon my 
shoulder. 

“ Hush, Sir ! ” whispered a familiar voice in my 
ear. 

“ What is it?” 

“ Step back into the shadows more, Sir, and be 
very quiet, — they are but a few yards away.” 

Holding my scabbard close to my side, that it 
might not knock against anything, I followed Toby 
to where scarcely a moonbeam could struggle through 
the foliage. As I tiptoed after the little man, the 
memory of the gaf e-bell, the horse crossing the bridge, 
and the frightened birds, came to me as a shock, and 
I stood a moment scratching my head and inwardly 
cursing myself for my lunacy. Such a piece of gross 
carelessness never had happened before. “ You are 
mad, Mark Everard, — you have lost what little brains 
you ever had,” I muttered angrily. “ How many 

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Mark Everard 


4 


times is Toby to catch you in the act of making a fool 
of yourself ? This is the third.” I pulled my mus- 
taches in annoyance, and glared at my companion in 
the darkness — and made no doubt that in his sleeve 
he was laughing at me. 

“ Who is it ? ” I whispered presently. 

“ I don’t know for a certainfy, Sir, I was just get- 
ting within earshot of them when I spied you, Sir. 
1 feared they also might see you, so I stole round 
them and came to where you stood.” 

“ How did you chance ,to see them ? ” 

“ Julius came to the door of the men’s room and, 
after taking quite a time to waken them without dis- 
turbing my dreams, got admittance. I hadn’t un- 
dressed yet, Sir, so was ready and waiting to follow so 
soon as they left. Well, Sir, pretty soon the door 
opened very quietly, and two of them tiptoed down 
the hall. They took an awful time to pass my door 
and to get to the other end of the passage. So soon 
as they had gone down the stairs, I followed, with my 
boots in my hand. I waited at the door until .they 
entered the shade of the trees, and then followed.” 

“ Who went out with that toad Julius? ” 
u I’m no,t sure which one of the men, Sir, but I 
think from his walk it was Denton.” 

“ Yes, yes ; and where did they go ? ” 

“ I had some trouble to follow them, Sir, without 
being seen. I lost them once or twice, and at last 
nearly stumbled over them. They were talking to 

1/8 


Mark Everard 




* 


someone else; but as I was creeping nearer, the 
stranger said something to Julius, and he crawled 
away toward the little bridge, — you know, Sir, where 
we went the first morning.” 

I tried to get a look at Toby’s face, but the shadows 
were too deep. 

“ Yes, J ulius sneaked off — and then ? ” I asked, a 
little impatiently. 

“ Oh, yes, Sir. Then Denton and the stranger 
went on talking in almost whispers, and I was just 
getting near enough to catch a word here and there, 
when I saw you, Sir, walking back and forth near the 
edge of the trees. I feared they would see you, Sir, 
so when I saw you lean against the tree, and start 
looking at the house ” 

“ Yes, yes, Toby — I know the rest,” I broke in. 

“ Yes, Sir — of course, Sir.” He pulled his hat a 
little over his eyes. 

“ How where are they ? ” 

“ Yonder, Sir — about three score yards from 
here.” 

“ Lead on, then.” 

We took about a score of paces, then I halted Toby 
and, after getting from him the exact position in 
which this mysterious stranger and Denton were con- 
versing, directed him to take a circuitous route, that 
he might approach them from the opposite side. With- 
out this precaution, there was a danger of their 
making off at the first sound. I allowed Toby what 

179 


Mark Everard 


♦ 




I considered sufficient time to get into position, then 
proceeded cautiously in the direction indicated. 
From tree to tree I glided, keeping in the shadows as 
much as possible, when compelled to cross an open 
space. At every stop I listened for the sound of 
voices. I counted every step, that I might not pass 
them in the darkness. 

“ There,” I said at last, “ but twenty paces more, 
according to Toby’s calculations, which usually are 
about right.” 

I listened 'breathlessly for a moment. Not a 
sound. Then, after peering into the shadows in all 
directions, and seeing nothing, I tiptoed softly to the 
shade of a large tree some half-dozen yards ahead. 

“ There must be no ifs about it. I say he must not 
be permitted to leave.” The voice was raised in 
anger, though still under some restraint. 

The reply reached me as a murmur. 

“ That is your affair, Denton,” the first speaker 
continued. “ The coach. . . . Horses. . . . Any 
way you can. . . . Must be detained.” 

“ Now I wonder if I figure in your plans, Sir,” I 
thought, working my way a little nearer. 

They were but ten paces from me when I halted 
this time. I could see their forms plainly, as they 
stood beneath a great tree, for on the other side a 
great patch of moonlight lay upon the grass, against 
which they stood out darkly. 


180 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


“ Hark ! what was that ? ” They stood listening a 
moment. 

“ I think 'twas a bird, Sir.’’ 

Silence again. 

u Well, I have told yon all, I think. Make sure 
that you are not seen when you return to your room. 
That little devil, Toby, is a sly one, and 'tis im- 
possible to say how Everard would act, were he to dis- 
cover our object. I must now be off. Remember, — 
detain him as long as possible. You shall hear from 
me soon.” 

He started to cross the patch of moonlight. In the 
centre he stopped, drew out his timepiece, and turned 
so that the light fell upon i,t. 

“ Eleven,” he said, as though to himself. “ Two 
hours to Dover. Get back to bed, Denton ; you may 
have to be stirring early. Good-night, my man, — 
and remember what I have told you.” He gave his 
hat a li,ttle jerk forward and strode off. 

I whistled sharply. The man, with an exclama- 
tion, sprang back a little and drew his sword. A,t the 
same instant an oath rolled out at the other side of 
the moonlight. Then came a gruff “ Drop that ! ” 
from Toby, followed immediately by the click of 
angry steel. 

“ Don't hurt him, Toby ! ” I shouted, stepping 
from my concealment. 

“ Oh, no, Sir ! we're only playing, Sir. The 
gentleman wants exercise,” he laughed. 

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4r 




Denton sprang forward and lunged. Zooks ! the 
fellow almost had me, for I was giving more heed to 
Toby and Sir Charles than to my antagonist. Faith, 
I had not drawn when his blade shot past me as I 
sprang aside. 

“ ’Slife ! would you draw steel against your officer, 
then ? Sheath that sword, or I’ll spit you ! ” 

His reply was another lunge, more vicious than the 
first. I put it aside, slid my hilt against his, that 
he could not disengage, and dealt him a heavy blow 
under the ear with my left fist. He was a stout 
fellow, and did not go down, hut he staggered back 
a few steps, half-stunned, his point upon the ground. 
Ere he could recover, I knocked his blade from his 
hand. 

“ I’ve a mind ,to carve you as I would a capon ! ” I 
said. “ Is there no loyalty in your stupid head ? 
Did you not know me ? ” I wished to leave him an 
excuse. 

“ Oh ! your pardon, Sir. I— didn’t know you, I 
— I thought it was someone else — the — the Earl,” he 
stammered. 

A man of resource, upon my soul ! was this Denton. 
Doubtless he knew my hatred of Cadwaller, and so 
took occasion ,to profit by it. 

I said nothing further, but turned to watch Sir 
Charles and his agile little adversary. Den,ton fol- 
lowed my example, but held his hand to his jaw the 
while. 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


“ Be sure not to injure him, Toby,” I again cau- 
tioned, as I saw how hot was the pace. 

“ No, Sir; we’ve tips on our foils, Sir,” he 
chuckled. 

Sir Charles handled his blade as one well taught. 
His thrusts and guards were too regular and ma- 
chine-like, however, for they bespoke the apt pupil 
rather than the master of the steel. Had he been 
opposed to an ordinarily good swordsman, he could 
more than have held his own — yea, much more ; but 
with Toby he was as a child against a giant, — the 
little man but played with him. Toby fought with 
an ease and seeming carelessness that can be acquired 
only by years of experience and an independent 
mind. ’Twas mechanical art opposed to a perfect 
art that had become a habit more than a thing con- 
trolled by a rule or reason. Sir Charles was fight- 
ing to save himself from humiliation at the hand of a 
presuming servant. Toby fought for the pure love 
of fighting. To him ’twas but a splendid diversion 
after long days of inactivity. As he fought he 
laughed and made most ludicrous remarks that 
seemed to drive the other to madness. He was hav- 
ing such sport that I had not the heart to interfere, 
for I had no love for Sir Charles, and made no doubt 
that a piece lopped off his dignity would be more 
improvement than loss. 

“ Ha ! ha ! well done ! but a little late ! Yes, that 
was better, but too low! Very bad indeed, Sir! If 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


you leave another opening like that, I must take ad- 
vantage of it, Sir ! Ha ! ha ! ” he laughed, as their 
hilts crashed above .their heads, “ too savage and 
wild! Your point went straight through a poor 
moonbeam ! ” 

Sir Charles swore through his teeth, then flung 
his hat behind him, and re-engaged with redoubled 
fury. 

“ How, now, you must not be so reckless, Sir ! 
You may hurt yourself despite me ! ” Toby gave 
ground, that he might not be forced to draw blood. 
“ That was very wrong, Sir ; — you should have 
doubled ! Always remember, Sir, a double is a very 
good thing. How, now, you really must keep back, 
or you shall impale yourself ! There ! — so I told 
you ! You see, if I hadn’t raised my point, you now 
should be gasping for Heaven ! ” 

I now saw the necessity of stopping .the play, for 
the pace was so furious that, as Toby said, the 
Baronet was running a' great chance of being 
wounded, simply because his rage had robbed him of 
any reason he might at other times have possessed. 

“ Come, Sir,” I said, approaching, “ stop this at 
once ! ” 

Sir Charles in reply gasped ou,t an oath. 

“ Then disarm him, Toby, if he knows not when 
he is beaten.” 

A second later a sword struck the ground at my 
feet, and the Baronet stood glaring at Toby, his 

*84 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


shoulders rising and falling quickly, as he gasped 
for breath. Toby’s sword was in its scabbard, his 
heels together and his hand at his side, head erect 
and soldierly, with nothing in his appearance that 
would suggest the recent encounter. 

“ Well, Sir Charles, so we meet again, as you 
said ; but I’m surprised at your apparent haste .to 
leave. Why, why so warlike? Do you come from 
the King this time, or from — from his Grace? By 
your actions I should take it to be the latter. Come, 
declare yourself ! Friend or foe ? ” 

lie glanced around until his eye fell upon Den- 
ton. “ Oh ! so you are a prisoner, foo, my friend,” 
he said. Then he again turned to me. “ I come 
to-night as neither friend nor foe of yours, Master 
Everard, and therefore cannot understand your con- 
duct in spying upon me and committing this great 
outrage.” 

“ There has been no outrage, Sir. An unknown 
person came secretly to this place, which I am guard- 
ing, and held a conference with one of my men. 
The stranger was challenged; he drew against the 
sentry, was overpowered and asked to explain his 
presence. Quite simple, you see, and far from out- 
rage.” 

The words I had overheard : “ He must not be 
permitted to leave. . . . Coach. . . . Horses. . . . 
Any way you can,” ran quickly through my mind. 
Looking at them now, since he had said he came as 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


neither friend nor foe of mine, I thought I under- 
stood them. 

“ Toby, return Sir Charles Rawley his sword, and 
you and this man withdraw until I call you,” I 
said, after a few moments of silence. 

When they were gone Sir Charles picked up his 
hat and stood facing me, his manner suggesting de- 
fiance. 

“ Now, Sir Charles, if you are not my enemy, 
will you explain your presence ? ” 

“ I did not say I was not your enemy,” he re- 
plied bluntly. “ I did not come here to-night as 
your enemy, w r as what I told you.” 

“ Quite so ; but that has no bearing on the ques- 
tion. I ask you, if you did not come as my enemy, 
what is your reason for all this mystery ? ” 

“ Why should I take you into my confidence, after 
you have insulted me by every means within your 
power ? ” I could see by the way he spoke that at 
heart he wished to tell me the secret. 

“ Because you are a gentleman of good under- 
standing, to be sure, Sir Charles. If your plans 
are not meant to oppose mine, you have the chance 
of securing a good ally, and whether I undertake to 
co-operate with you or not, you assure yourself of 
your liberty. Two very excellent reasons for your 
confidence, are they not, my dear Sir Charles ? ” 

He remained silent a moment longer, then came a 
little nearer and said : “ After consideration, I can 

1 86 


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see no reason you should have for opposing me. 
You see, Sir, there are many forces at work, of which 
you know nothing.” He looked very wise, and 
paused to let me realise my insignificance. 

“ Doubtless there are many, as you say.” I tried 
to look a little awed. 

“ Of course you have discovered that Sir Alfred 
has been used as a blind to hide a deeper game. You 
saw that before I returned to London.” 

I nodded. 

“ You mistook the part that I was playing. You 
thought me to be in league with Cadwaller, did you 
not?” 

“ I had not then decided, but knew you were op- 
posed to the interests of Sir Alfred.” 

“ Quite so, though, remember, I have no ill-will for 
Sir Alfred personally. He was but an obstacle in 
my path.” He straightened himself and agqin 
paused for effect. 

I smiled in the shadow of my hat, and said nothing. 

“ Well, Sir, there was a real plot to abduct the 
Queen ; and in that plot even Lord Cadwaller played 
but a secondary part.” His voice here dropped to 
a whisper. “ There were men behind it that prac- 
tically rule England. But remember, Sir, the King 
had naught to do with it. He has faults, but he 
never would stoop to such injustice. I am not per- 
mitted to divulge their names yet, and they may 
never be made public, or the crime brought home to 

187 


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the ringleaders, for they have seen to it that their 
tracks are well covered. But with Cadwaller ’tis 
different, I think. There is a chance — ’tis only a 
chance — that evidence may be produced that will 
convince the King of his guilt. His greatest ene- 
mies — my friends — are working against him with 
all their power. But he has so great an influence 
with the King that Tis desirable to keep him from 
Dover so long as is possible. ’Twas this I told Den- 
ton. Yes, if he can be detained here for a few days 
longer, there is a chance of his overthrow; for the 
King soon can forget, especially in such company as 
he has at Dover.” 

“ And these men, — are they trusty ? ” 

“ Perfectly. If I tell Denton to obey your or- 
ders, they will do so.” 

“ I overheard you say to him something about a 
coach and horses. What was it ? ” 

“ I told him to tamper with the coach, so that it 
would break down, or with the horses, that he can- 
not ride, — to do anything that will prevent .the Earl 
from travelling.” 

“ Ah, yes ; but his Lordship looks like a man that 
would be hard to defeat in cunning. Does he know 
of this attraction at Dover that may rob him of the 
King’s favour ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, and fully realises his danger ! Sun, 
strike me! but he almost feared to leave the King’s 
side to come here, I’ll warrant.” 

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“ And the attraction, — what is it ? ” 

Sir Charles laughed. “ That that always attracts 
the King most — a woman.” 

“ Ah, a new one ! When did she come upon the 
scene ? ” 

“ But four days since. She is in the train of the 
King’s sister, the Duchess of Orleans — that is, she 
came in the train of the Duchess.” 

“Oh, ho! I see!” 

“ A gift right royal, upon my soul ! ” he laughed. 

“ Four days since she came, you say? ” 

“ Yes.” 

I twisted my mustaches in silence for a moment. 
What Sir Charles told me fitted in nicely with the 
King’s order, four days old. It explained also the 
anxiety on the part of the Earl to make sure that I 
should offer him no opposition. Before this, I had 
thought it strange that one so secure in the King’s 
favour should think it necessary that I should keep 
close silence. He saw his danger and realised that 
no time could be spared for the overcoming of any 
opposition I might make. But now he knew I could 
not be bought. His every moment was precious. 
It was evident he would lose no time in defeating 
me. I must be more than ever on my guard — his 
Lordship would force the pace. 

“ From what I have said,” resumed Sir Charles, 
“ it must be clear to you that Cadwaller’s strongest 
chance of defeating us lies in the speed with which 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


he returns Mistress Heron to the Court. He has 
gained Sir Alfred’s pardon from the King. With 
this he will buy the daughter, and with the daughter 
he will repurchase any prestige he may lose during 
his absence.” 

“ Oh, w T ill he ? ” I thought, and ground an oath 
between my teeth. Aloud I said : “ But what ob- 
ject have I in defeating the plans of the Earl ? ” 

He looked uneasy for a moment. “ I believe you 
have an object, Master Everard,” he said, then 
laughed lightly. 

I watched him, but he only smiled knowingly, and 
took a pinch of snuff. His manner brought to my 
mind another strange thing. 

“ And how comes it, Sir Charles, that you have 
no fear that that fellow Julius will betray you ? ” 

He looked embarrassed, took another pinch of 
snuff, and then, deciding on his course, laughed soft- 
ly. “ I thought you were missing that point. You 
are right — I have a suspicion of your object, and 
have no fear that J ulius will betray me. I may say 
no more, but I think you understand me.” 

“ Ah ! you own Julius, then ? I now better under- 
stand many little things.” 

“ Ho you, now ? ” he laughed. “ ’Tis very un- 
wise to take so much for granted, Sir. And there is 
one thing I would have you remember : ” — he drew 
closer and lowered his voice — “ you have yet to 
answer to me personally for your insults. In this 

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other matter we may work for a common end ; but 
I have no desire to stand in a false light, and have 
you think me your friend.” 

I admired the boy for his frankness, though I was 
disposed to laugh at his threat. 

“ Do you think it wise to warn me ? ” 

“ I think I know my man,” he nodded. 

I laughed. “ Zooks ! Sir Charles, you have de* 
veloped a great wisdom since last we met. Yes, you 
are right — you know your man.” 

“ Then you agree to ally yourself with us ? ” 

“ Yes, — up to a certain point. When my object 
shall have been accomplished, I shall drop out; and 
then — well, after that we shall know how we stand.” 

“ Blood me ! but I cannot help liking you, Sir ! 
You should be one of us. There’s a great time com- 
ing, if the King should do something that he seems 
inclined to do.” 

I stopped him with a wave of my hand. “ Don’t 
fell too much, Sir Charles, if you hope to succeed in 
this great time that you speak of. For myself, — 
I’m but a poor soldier of fortune, without politics or 
ambition. I have passed the time when I expected 
dreams to be fulfilled.” 

He stood looking strangely at me. Then he drew 
his timepiece. “ Twenty minutes to midnight. 
’Slife ! I must be off ! ” He again turned to me as 
though to say something, but evidently changed his 
mind. 


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“ You intended to speak to your man, Denton,” I 
reminded. 

“ Oh, yes ; — but hark ! — who is this ? ” 

The sound of hasty movements came from the 
deepest shadows, and a moment later Toby appeared, 
running softly. 

I stepped forward to meet him. “ Yes, Toby ? ” 

“ A mounted man is passing down the little path 
toward the gate, Sir.” 

“ Where?— Quick!” 

Toby sprang toward the path, with Sir Charles 
and me at his heels. Through the trees we dodged, 
slanting our course, that we might strike the path as 
far down as possible. It was very dark here under 
the great branches. On we stumbled, our progress 
slow. I cursed as my foot caught on something, and 
I was thrown to the earth. But the next moment I 
was somewhat consoled to hear a grunt from Sir 
Charles, who had flattened himself against an in- 
visible tree. Toby glided through with the skill of 
a fox, and a moment after the accident to Sir Charles, 
turned sharply to the left and sprang to the middle 
of the path, where he stood listening. 

“ Has he passed ? ” I whispered. 

“ I fear so, Sir ; — but hark ! ” 

We held our breaths and listened. 

“ Yes — there he is, crossing the bridge ! ” 

“ Quick ! ” I cried, “ we must catch him ! ” 

On the little bridge we again stopped to listen. 

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. . . A faint rattle came from the gate, — then an 
indistinct challenge, and a muffled reply. 

“ Denton is after him ! ” Toby shouted, as we 
dashed along. 

The sharp, whip-like crack of a pistol rang out on 
the night. We sprang into the main drive, — and 
were just in time to see Denton stagger and fall, and 
a horseman bend low in his saddle and gallop at a 
furious pace toward .Canterbury, 

*3 


193 


CHAPTER XII. 


As we approached the spot where the man lay, he 
struggled to his feet and came unsteadily toward us. 
His right hand he pressed to his left shoulder, and 
between the fingers a little stream of red was 
trickling. 

“ Hard hit, my man ? ” said Sir Charles, support- 
ing him. 

“ Hay, Sir, ’tis not bad, I think; but the blow 
upset me. Pm steady now, Sir.” He quickly was 
recovering from the shock. 

“ Did you recognise the knave? ” I. asked, remov- 
ing some of his clothing so as to expose the wound. 

“ Ho, Sir, not definitely; but it wasn’t the Earl, I 
think.” 

“ Oh ! not his Lordship, but his Lordship’s man ! 
As bad, if not worse ! Where is that accursed 
Julius, that he permitted him to pass so quickly? 
The knave is always in the way when not wanted ! ” 

“ I sent him to watch my horse, that it might not 
neigh,” said Sir Charles. 

A dark form moved from behind a tree, and, cir- 
cling noiselessly past us, approached the gate, which 
it quietly closed. There could be no mistaking the 
awkward form nor the snake-like movement. 

I stood grinding my teeth in the same unaccounta- 

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* 


ble rage that always came over me when I beheld the 
hideous creature, while Toby bound a scarf over the 
furrow that had been ploughed across the top of Den- 
ton’s shoulder. There was something remarkably 
strange in this hatred. It meant something ... I 
wondered what. 

“ There, friend Denton, to-morrow you’ll be as 
sound as ever, save for a little stiffness,” said Toby, 
as he finished his operation. 

“ Don’t you think, Sir, we’d better get off the 
drive ? ” he asked. 

“ Zounds, yes ! ” cried Sir Charles. “ That shot 
would warn Cadwaller ! Here, Julius!” (The 
other sneaked toward him). “ Fetch my horse, 
quick ! I must be off. ’Slife ! ” he went on, to me, 
as we stepped back under the shadows, “ we now 
must move with double haste, — the Earl has gained a 
great advantage.” 

“ Yes, he has sent either for more authority or re- 
inforcements — or both.” 

“ And mayhap for something else, as bad as 
either.” 

“ You mean ? ” 

“ He may be in need of a priest.” 

“ No ; a priest would not suffice without the 
others.” 

“ You mean that you would resist? ” 

“ Resist ! Cadwaller may beat me ; but if I go 
under, he shall go too.” 


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lie said nothing for a moment, — then : “ And yet 
you have no object! ” he laughed. “Well, go on; 
but our paths soon may cross, I warn you.” 

“ Oh ! ” I said, and stood silent, pondering a new 
problem. 

“ You see I am frank with you.” 

“ I am sleepy,” I yawned. 

He muttered something under his breath, — then 
we both remained silent until the sound of a horse’s 
footsteps coming through the trees in the rear told 
us that Julius was returning. 

Sir Charles moved to where the wounded man 
stood and said a few words in a low tone, then turned 
to meet Julius. After mounting, he leaned from his 
saddle and — I made no doubt — gave him whispered 
directions also. Julius moved off to open the gate. 
Sir Charles rode up beside me. 

“ I hope you will be successful in the carrying out 
of your resolutions, Master Everard — strike me 
dead if I don’t ! If you hear from me at all, it shall 
be soon. Cadwaller has set a mighty fast pace. 
’Slife! w T e must move quickly or be ridden down. 
Au revoir, Sir. And if we meet not again I shall at 
least write' your epitaph.” 

He bent low in his saddle, drove spurs into his 
horse’s sides, dashed along the drive and through the 
gates at full speed. 

For some time after he had gone I stood with my 
back against a tree, staring through the branches at 

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i k 


<k 


the starry sky. I heard Julius close the gates, then 
enter the lodge. 

“ Toby,” I said presently, “ return with this man 
to ,the house. ’Tis late and you need sleep; to-mor- 
row seems like to be a busy day.” 

“ And you, Sir ? ” he asked uneasily. 

“ I \ Ah ! I shall remain in the grounds 
awhile.” 

He turned away unwillingly, then stopped and 
looked back, twisting his mustaches in indeci- 
sion. 

“ Toby!” 

“ Yes, Sir ? ” 

“ What do you think of this affair, Toby ? ” 

“ Very bad, Sir, very bad ! The worst yet, Sir ! ” 

“ Surely not!” 

“ Well, Sir — that is — ah — the most important.” 

“ You surprise me, Toby ! Do you forget our last 
affair in Paris ? ” 

“ Ho, Sir ; but this is very different.” 

“ Yes, different circumstances ; but the odds are 
much the same.” 

He fidgeted. “ Of course Sir Alfred might be 
managed, — and Sir Charles, — and the Earl, — and — 
and Julius; but ” 

“ Oh ! but you think the King is one too many for 
us! Well, you may be right; to-morrow looks 
dark — yes, faith, very dark.” 

m oby jerked his hat more over his brows, cleared 

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4 


4 


his throat and squared his shoulders. “ I didn’t 
mean the King, Sir ; I meant — ah — meant ” 

“ Good-night, Toby. You and Denton must have 
your sleep.” I put my hands upon ’his shoulders 
and peered into his face. He stared steadily at the 
ground. I tried to laugh, but the attempt was a 
sorry failure ; — my lips refused to expand smilingly, 
and my throat ached with the effort to produce the 
sound. 

“ Why, Toby,” I said presently, “ ’tis strange in- 
deed to see you become despondent.” 

“ Despondent, Sir ! ” He sprang back as though 
I had struck him. 

“ Ha ! that is better, Toby ! The old spirit is 
there still, I see ! ” 

“ Ay, Sir, and always will be. But I hate might- 
ily to lose you, Sir.” He was looking at the ground 
again. 

Denton had moved off toward the house. 

“ Lose me ? ” I asked quietly. 

He said nothing for a moment, — then he thrust for- 
ward his head. “ But the devil take me if she’s 
not worth it, Sir ! ” 

This time I did laugh, scornfully at first, then bit- 
terly, as the .true situation was more thoroughly real- 
ised. 

“ If you never lose me until I am lost in that way, 
Toby, our hairs shall grow white together. Ha! 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


ha ! ” I laughed again, and struck my chest, “ upon 
my soul, Toby, you’re mad ! ”’ 

Toby sadly shook his head. 

I grew half-angry, half-alarmed, attempted to 
laugh again, bu,t failed, and finally ended by twist- 
ing my mustaches and boring holes in the ground 
with the heel of my boot. 

Toby stood with hands clasped behind his back, 
staring off through the patches of moonlight and 
shadow, a mournful little figure that saw his idolised 
master and comrade drifting swiftly from him. 
Zooks ! I knew not whether to swear or wipe my 
eyes. I long had known the little man would lay 
down his life for me, but I never thought him capa- 
ble of such foolishness. I fought with the tempta- 
tion to lose patience, and presently stepped to his 
side and put my hand upon his shoulder. 

He touched his hat smartly and turned ,to face me. 
His manner killed the last spark of impatience with- 
in me. Zounds ! every move of the little man went 
straight to my hear } t. 

“ Come, Toby,” I said kindly, “ I must show you 
how groundless is your fear.” (I felt like a fool in 
having to discuss the matter.) “ In the first place, 
think of the King and Cadwaller. They must be 
defeated or we shall go under — the la,tter seems the 
more probable. Hext remember Sir Charles, who 
hopes to be rewarded for the overthrow of his Lord- 


199 


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* 


ship, as he to-night told me, and warned me to keep 
out of his path. But so much for him.” I snapped 
my fingers. “ After that, think of Sir Alfred, who 
hates me like the devil, and almost choked with rage 
when last I spoke to him. ... A fine array of ob- 
stacles, are they not, to assure you that we shall not 
drift apart ! But these, insurmountable as they are, 
must be placed below the greatest. My dear Toby, 
but look at me and recall what I always have been. 
Surely you know me well enough to prevent you 
from supposing for a moment that I am capable of 
falling in love with a woman ! ” 

Toby smiled faintly. 

“ Why, Toby, my boy, I don’t know what love is ! ” 

“ That’s the worst of it, Sir.” 

“ What!” 

“ That is why you weren’t able to keep clear of it, 
Sir.” 

“ Keep clear of it ! Why, man, I have kept clear 
of it ! Zooks ! upon my soul, Toby, you’re mad ! I 
admit Mistress Heron is the only woman in the world 
with the power of reason ; the only woman with a soul 
and a man’s sense of honour, and a spirit that would 
fight; the only beautiful woman in the world; the 
most kind, witty and brave ; the only woman in the 
world not overloaded with vanity and the love of 
courts; faith, the only real woman I ever have be- 
held; but to be in love with her — oh, no, Toby! — 
you know me better than to think that, surely ! ” 

200 


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Toby turned bis bead from me and drew his hat 
still farther forward. 

I was silent for a moment, wondering if I should 
say more. But I felt communicative that night, and 
as I always before had taken Toby into my confi- 
dence, I could see no reason why I should not 
go on. 

“ And besides, Toby, you forgef who she is and 
who I am. Zounds! ” (I laughed harshly), “ she, as 
I have said, is the only perfect woman in the world, — 
and what am I? She (and here’s where the world 
comes in), she is the only child of a man with an in- 
come of from five to ten thousand at least, — and to 
what am I heir, Toby? Why, my good friend, we 
have a few hundred scraped together, a pair of good 
swords and a horse apiece, and — yes, Toby, old 
friend, your love and devotion, which I’d not ex- 
change for a kingdom.” 

He cleared his throat with great vigour and gruif- 
ness, and drew his shoulders up to greater square- 
ness. 

“ Ho, no, Toby. She’s proud, doubtless — and 
with good reason — and I am but a blunt soldier. 
Bah ! what good would it do me if I did love her ? 
She looks on me as a good, honest fellow, and trusts 
me to lead her from her troubles — and honoured am 
I with the service ; but as for loving me — oh, no, no, 
my friend, ’tis absurd ! ” 

Toby turned on me almost savagely. “ And why 

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should she not, Sir ? ” His mustaches bristled with 
indignation, like the hairs of an angry cat. 

I could have hugged the little man for his loyalty. 

“ Why, because I am no,t worthy, Toby. Remem- 
ber, my dear old friend, I am not the great hero you 
would make me. You are blind to my faults, old 
comrade, and doubtless think my like is not. Others 
take me at my true worth.” 

He made an impatient movement. 

“ Don’t you see, Toby? I have nothing! Ho 
position, no wealth, no learning worth mentioning, 
and — as bad as any other failing — no looks. Why, 
Toby, my man” (I stepped into a patch of moon- 
light), “ do but look at those boots — shapeless and 
discoloured ; this coat — last year’s style ; this hat, gaze 
on it — that feather has not been curled in a half- 
year ! ” 

“ Dress ! ” said Toby scornfully. 

“ Dress ! Zounds ! dress is all I can claim, — and 
I haven’f even that. And then come looks to com- 
plete my list of imperfections. I’m very homely, 
Toby.” 

“ Oh, Sir!” (Vast depreciation.) 

“ Do you know, Toby, even my mother — and I 
was only six years of age when she died, so it must 
have been before that — said I was an ugly little 
devil.” 

I think Toby swore under his breath. 

“ Ho, she didn’t think over much of my beaufy, 

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and she should have known. My father said I was 
an ill-tempered young fiend that would end my life 
upon the gibbet. He cast me off and disowned me, 
as your know.” 

Toby coughed gruffly. 

“ Faith, ol*d friend, I never have been very popu- 
lar. You are <the only soul with whom I have not 
quarrelled, and your forbearance accounts for that. 
And, knowing all these prodigious failings, you could 
for a moment think the most perfect creature God 
ever made could love me ! Out, Toby, — ’tis ab- 
surd ! ” I laughed a little, but it did not sound right, 
and then I bored more holes. 

Toby was silent for some time, then he chuckled 
softly to himself. 

I looked up, surprised and annoyed. “ You are 
amused, Toby ? ” 

“Ho, Sir!— Ho, Sir !— Just thinking, Sir.” 

“ Oh ! And what might be your thoughts, Toby ? 
Do you see now how very wrong you were in .think- 
ing so foolishly of me as to suppose that I ever could 
be in love ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir. To be sure, Sir.” 

“ What ! — oh, yes. ... I am glad you see your — 
your mistake.” For some unaccountable reason, my 
voice shook painfully. “ And you see, Toby,” I 
went on, after a moment’s pause, “ I have another 
sad failing. You know, Toby, I — I swear like the 
devil — eh, Toby ? ” 


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“ Yes, Sir, — very bad, Sir.” He turned his head 
from me. 

We walked on in silence toward the house. 

“ And, Toby,” I said presently, “ I am too old ,to 
change my habits, am I not ? ” 

“Oh, yes, Sir ! ” he answered quickly, but in a 
voice that made me look at him hastily. 

“ And, after all, there is no life like that of a 
soldier, is there, Toby ? ” 

“No, Sir! No, Sir! Of course not, Sir!” 

We stepped back into the path near the little 
bridge, and, glancing back to see that we were alone, 
walked slowly up the gentle slope. On the bridge I 
halted. ... It seemed an age since last I had 
crossed it. How still and peaceful it was ! — that lit- 
tle span of rustic work with its undisturbed surround- 
ings. How lazily it stretched from one bank to the 
other! ’Twas difficult to realise that this was the 
same little bridge over which we had rushed to cut 
off the escape of an enemy. No, it looked different 
now; the moonlight sparkled brighter on the water; 
no frightened birds sought shelter; scarce a leaf rus- 
tled in the gentle breeze; now it was the bridge of 
that first morning. Less than two week*> since that 
first morning! It seemed scarce a day, and yet a 
lifetime. Since that day, until this, nothing of great 
importance seemed to have happened, and yet — how 
much. I had come to unravel a plot, — and here 
Toby had discovered the key. How long ago that 

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¥ 


seemed ! The mysteries of the plot all were clear to 
me now, but my position was not what I had ex- 
pected; the difficulties opposing me grew greater 
with every movement. Never before had the 
thought of defeat alarmed me — now I shuddered as I 
thought of the possibility. Yes, this time it was 
different — this time there should be no defeat ; — this 
time it hurt, it hurt. 

I stared into the water and tried to see ,the fishes — 
her fishes — but they were not there. 

“ Zooks ! how sharp wais her tongue that morning ! ” 
I muttered, and smiled at t the memory of her startled 
look as she stood upon the great, flat stone, ready to 
flee, and yet attempting to look dauntless. “ A brave 
little heart! And the odds that were against her, 
and what defeat meant! And then her sharpness 
when I protested my innocence. She thought I was 
spying upon her. Then I protest : < Madam/ I said, 

‘ I swear ’ ‘ Yes/ she snaps out, ere I could 

proceed, ‘ I heard you, Sir ! y ” I chuckled to myself. 
“ And then her irrepressible youth, which sprang up 
within her and overflowed. How she seemed Jo 
trust me from the first! Zounds! how happy the 
world would be with more such unsuspecting spirits ! 
And then we fed the fishes — her pets. . . . Then 
Toby came and surprised me. Ah, the sparkle in 
the little man’s eyes when he caughj me ! Do you 
remember, Toby ? ” 

“ What, Sir?” 


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4 


“ Why, the bridge, the fishes — that morning ! ” 

“ Oh, yes, Sir! Very well, Sir! ” 

“ Ah, that was a great day, Toby! Faith, there 
will be no more like it, my friend.” 

“ And — and the arbour, Sir.” 

“ Ay, and the arbour, Toby.” 

“ And the butterfly, Sir.” 

I looked sharply at him. I feared he was laugh- 
ing in his sleeve, but his face was more sad than gay. 

“ And the rosebush, Toby.” 

He laughed, then put his hand to the hollow of his 
back. “ Zooks ! I never shall forget the rosebush ! 
My back aches now when I think of it, Sir.” 

“ Ah, yes, yes, -.that was a great day, my friend ! 
And there will be no more, no more! To-morrow 
will begin with what I fear will be a tragedy. And, 
Toby, we must come out on top. Remember, old 
comrade, there shall be no such word as fail. J Tis 
not for ourselves, but for her. She must be saved, 
Toby! May we be damned for knaves through all 
eternity if we go down until our work is done ! ” 

“ Amen, Sir,” said Toby solemnly, and grasped my 
outstretched hand in a gripe there was no mistaking. 




206 


CHAPTER XIII. 


As we emerged from the path and started to cross 
the lawn I was struck with surprise to see the lights 
still shining brightly from the windows of the room 
in which Sir Alfred and the Earl had been talking, 
as well as from the main hall. I was filled with a 
sadness and disgust, also, for if Sir Alfred was still 
up, as the lights would lead one to suppose, it meant 
that he had taken no heed of the warning that I had 
given him in the supper-room. 

“ The pitiable creature has been frightened into 
giving his consent,” I thought. “ He is a child in 
thaf knave’s hands. Ah, the shame of cowardice! 
To what will it not make its victims stoop? He 
clearly saw that what I said was true. ’Twas not 
mere indignation that almost strangled him; ’twas 
the recognising of an ugly truth. And he will sink 
his daughter to such a depth merely to save his miser- 
able neck ! Ah ! ’tis too revolting ! ” 

Faith, when he left the room I had no thought 
that he would have the strength to face the matter 
bravely. I thought the Earl would win. But now, 
as I fully realised that he had consented to hear the 
disgrace, it turned me sick at heart. I ground my 
teeth in rage and disgust, and silently swore that 

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¥ 


it should not be, even if the whole of England should 
rise against me. 

I felt a desperafe feeling of recklessness begin to 
boil up within me. It always comes to me when I 
am pressed too hard. Its presence made me to real- 
ise the hopelessness of my undertaking, for I always 
have been my own master, and feel confidence of ulti- 
mate triumph until it comes. It is the smouldering 
embers of a fiery temper crushed into control by 
years of discipline. But at a great crisis it is dan- 
gerous — ’twill burst out with a force .that always 
sweeps me from my feet. ’Twill hurl me on 
against my opposition, and then — something always 
has given way. Before this night it had been the 
opposition ; but this time — I .wondered which. Only 
the first symptoms now were present. I still was 
master of myself, and I made a great struggle to re- 
main so. I crushed the fire within my heart, de- 
termined ,to fight my opponents with all the coolness 
I could muster. Before the end I should give way 
to it, I felt ; but not now, or I should do more harm 
than good. 

On the second floor the windows all were dark. 
I paused and looked more particularly at hers. The 
little white face in the moonlight was not there. 
“ She sleeps peacefully,” I thought, “ all uncon- 
scious of the victory of the great black spider on the 
floor below. Or does she toss restlessly and doubt 
my power to guide her safely through? ” My jaw 

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tightened and I griped my fists as we drew nearer, 
“ Damnation ! she shall come safely out,” I mut- 
tered. Then: “ But 1 must stop that swearing; ’tis 
vastly rough and unbecoming.” A moment later I 
smiled at my proposed reformation. 

At the corner of the house we stopped. 

“ They are gay, Toby. They illuminate in honour 
of their victory in getting their man safely through.” 

“ Yes, Sir ; but they don’t seem very boisterous 
over it, Sir.” 

I went to the window and listened. Not a 
sound came from within. 

“ Well, Toby, sleep with loaded pistols, and warn 
the men to be prepared. Call me at the first alarm, 
should anything happen this night.” 

“ Yes, Sir. Good-night, Sir.” He touched his 
hat and turned to go, but after three steps again 
came to a halt. “ Beg pardon, Sir,” he said, ap- 
proaching, “ but you will retire now, Sir ? ” 

“ Yes, yes, of course, Toby.” Then I smiled. 
“ Why, my friend, did you think I might take an- 
other stroll ? ” 

He pulled at his upper lip and regarded me 
strangely for a moment, his head held to one side. 
Then he saluted again smartly and strutted toward 
the rear. 

I stood looking after him until he disappeared, 
then walked slowly to the door. There was a little 
movement within as I turned the knob, but when 1 

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4 


swung the door from me and stood upon the thresh- 
old, as a precaution against a sudden atttack, every- 
thing was orderly and calm. Two large candle- 
sticks stood upon the table, a little fire crackled 
merrily beneath the mantel, and wreaths of blue 
smoke curled lazily up from behind a small volume 
in the Earl of Cadwaller’s hands. I entered and 
glanced behind the door, which I then closed. 

His Lordship calmly looked up, his finger marking 
his page. “ All safe, Sir,” he sneered. “ ’Od’s fish ! 
you grow .timid, my friend.” 

“ I always know where to expect assassins, my 
Lord.” 

u From old associations, I suppose.” He blew a 
smoke-ring into the air, then cut it with his long 
pipe-stem. 

“ They always choose one kind of company.” 

“ Then you are lonely ? ” He raised his eyebrows. 

“ Nay, faith, most cheerful, which should prove 
me a knave.” 

“ But something irritable since your little defeat.” 
He laughed softly, and puffed his pipe with great 
relish. 

“ Nay, pleasured with your great haste to suicide.” 

“ Suicide ! ” Again he laughed. 

I placed a chair with its back against the wall by 
the fire and sat down. 

“ Yes, my Lord, you hasten your fate.” 


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“ And such a fate! ” he smiled. “ Oh, the Fates 
are with me ! ” 

“ They soon will be, my Lord.” 

" ’Slife, Sir, they are already ! Come, felicitate 
me ; I have won.” 

“ Yes ? ” I laughed. 

" Yes, a fact, I assure you. Will you not smoke a 
pipe with me ? ” He smilingly held it toward me, 
then lighted a splint in the flame of a candle. 

I took it, shook the tobacco from the howl into the 
fire, crossed to the table and refilled it from the jar. 
He sat staring for a moment, then stroked his jaw 
slowly and smiled in amusement. 

“ As cautious as the Duke of York ! ” he laughed. 
" But then, I suppose all great folk are alike. 
Doubtless you fear a plot to rob you of the succes- 
sion.” 

“No, I fear if I should smoke what you gave me I 
migh,t wear a crown all too soon, my Lord.” 

“ You flatter yourself, Sir ; I have no need to re- 
sort to such measures.” 

"No?” 

“ No.” He smiled very contentedly, crossed his 
legs and resumed his occupation of playing with the 
smoke-rings. I said nothing, hut puffed thoughtfully 
and watched him. His eyes twinkled merrily, as 
though he was relishing some pleasant secret. 

" You are determined to fight my battles for me,” 


21 1 


Mark Everard 


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he said presently. “ First you came across my path 
to capture, but failed.” 

“ You are fleet of foot, my Lord.” 

He carelessly waved my remark aside. “ You 
irritated me somewhat .then, hut at the same time 
gave me my strongest card — you put Sir Alfred with- 
in my power, when you gave the King his sword. A 
bad mistake, was it not ? But then, I suppose you 
were free to act disinterestedly at that time ; you had 
not fallen into the golden web, eh? ’Sblood! is it 
not strange that all — even the lowest — of our sex are 
so vulnerable in a certain spot ? The most hardened 
ruffian is as susceptible as the most refined ” 

“ Ruffian?” 

“ Ho, — gentleman.” 

“ Go on, pray ; you are vastly instructing, my 
Lord.” 

“ ’Tis from you I learn, Sir. But permit me to 
proceed with the list of favours you have rendered 
me.” 

“ After placing Sir Alfred within my power, you 
prevented his unwise flight, which increased my in- 
debtedness to you. Then you upset the plans of Sir 
Charles and his powerful supporters, which made my 
third debt.” (He was counting them by touching 
his fingers with his pipe-stem). “ And, as though 
these were not enough kindnesses, you .this night have 
rendered me a fourth. I have no more to ask, for 
this last has removed the obstacle that you created.” 

21 3 


Mark Everard 


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* 

He looked at me closely and strangely, to see whether 
I had caught his meaning or not. 

I sat smoking in silence, trying to find in what had 
happened that night an act of mine that would agree 
with his reference to this fourth kindness. Faith, 
twist my brain as I would, I could think of nothing 
that would explain ft. So far as my knowledge went, 
nothing to contribute to his success had happened ex- 
cept the escape of his servant, which would assure 
him of assistance. But by no stretch of my imagina- 
tion could I see where I had helped the servant to 
pass out. And then, what did he mean by : “ This 
last has removed the obstacle that you created ? ” 
Ho, ffwas clear that he did not refer to Jthe flight of 
the servant. But if not that, then what ? I must 
have shown my lack of comprehension in my face, 
for he made an impatient move and said : 

“ ’Slife ! it must be later than I had thought ; 
when Master Everard’s bright mind cannot grasp a 
plain statement ’tis time for weaker wits to be abed.” 

I still sat watching him as he rose and, placing his 
pipe upon the table and his book in his pocket, 
Stretched his arms far above his head and yawned 
lazily. There were sly devils lurking somewhere 
deep in his eyes, which he never took off me from the 
moment he made the remark about the fourth kind- 
ness I had done him. There he stood, the long, 
tapering fingers stroking his pointed jaw, which be- 
trayed the trait of character, the perversion of which 

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was the cause of his present depravity. The rebel- 
lious feeling of recklessness that I had felt before en- 
tering again took hold of me. He meant something 
fiendish, I could see by his look. What, what could 
it be? ’Twas nothing that had happened in the 
grounds. In the house then. And if in the house, 
and it assured his success, as he said, then it must be 
injurious to Mistress Heron. I felt my lips tighten 
and my nostrils twitch, and as I peered intently 
through the smoke that now rose furiously before my 
face, the long-disciplined fire mounted quickly from 
heart to head and almost gained control. 

His Lordship turned away slowly, moved to the 
other side of the table, and again stood still. “ You 
may have solved the riddle ere sunrise,” he smiled. 
‘ A good-night to you, Sir. May you enjoy your 
watch.” His eyes turned, for a fraction of a second, 
toward the door of the room in which he and Sir Al- 
fred had been talking earlier in the evening. 

Like a flash the strangeness of the lights burning 
within that room at that late hour came to me. Hot 
a sound had come from there to fell that it was occu- 
pied. And the Earl reading alone in the hall, when 
the rest of the house was hushed in slumber ! A sud- 
den suspicion took hold of me, and I glanced quickly 
to his Lordship, then to the door again. 

He saw my look, and smiled. “ Ah, your wits are 
reviving, my friend,” he nodded. Then I think he 
saw the fire in my eyes, and was warned. “ Again, 

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good-night ,to you,” he smiled, and turned toward the 
stairs. 

I slowly rose, every muscle strained to keep control 
of myself. “ Halt ! ” I growled in a voice that told 
me how near I was to the danger point. “ Hot so 
fast, my Lord Cadwaller.” I kept my eyes on him 
and crossed to the foot of the stairs. 

For a moment a look of dismay was on his face, 
then his careless sneer returned. “ Oh, you still de- 
sire company? Really, you grow tiresome, my 
friend.” 

“ Come,” I said, speaking very low, “ stop that, 
Sir ; we are done with child’s play. Banish that 
sneer, you knave, or I shall carve it from you ! ” 

“ Stand aside, or ” 

I seized his arm in a gripe that sunk each finger 
deep, and drew him to me. “ How, Sir, I have quit 
the play. I am now Mark Everard, who never yet 
has known defeat. Stop squirming or I shall pull 
your villainous hones, apart. How, answer my ques- 
tion : Who is in that room ? ” 

He tried to look dignified, but his eyes dropped be- 
fore my stare. 

I seized 'his other arm and shook him roughly. 
“ Quick ! ” 

He looked me in the face, a fear creeping into his 
eyes. “ Hot a soul,” he said strangely. 

“ What ! ” I was a little taken aback, so relaxed 
my gripe. 


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Mark Everard 




He took advantage of the impression he had made 
on me, and sprang back a step, tearing himself free. 
His sneer returned as he drew himself up proudly, 
his right foot advanced and his hand upon his hilt. 

“ I say there is not a living soul within.that room,” 
he said slowly, dwelling a little on the “ living soul.” 

My suspicion was confirmed. I took a step toward 
him. He drew half his sword from its scabbard and 
thrust forward his head, ready to fight. Then a 
strange look came to his face, and he hesitated, his 
mouth half open, as though anxiously listening. 

“ You are a liar ,my Lord,” I said quietly, for I 
too had heard the sound that startled him. 

He turned white and trembled, as his eyes sought 
the door of Jthe room whence the alarming sound had 
come. Then it came again, and he trembled and let 
his blade slide back into its scabbard. 

“ You grow timid, my friend,” I mocked, using 
the words that he had spoken when I, on entering the 
room, glanced behind the door. “ Come, my Lord, 
we shall explore and learn the cause of the mystery.” 
I seized his arm and drew him with me. 

For a few steps he went passively, his eyes fixed 
upon the door-knob with the expression of one that 
expected some grim horror presently to step forth. 
Then the drear sound again rolled out, distinct and 
painful, and my Lord shuddered and shrunk back in 
alarm. 

“ Another coward,” I muttered in disgust. Then 

2i6 


Mark Everard 


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aloud : “ Come on ! ” I snarled, and drew him 

roughly to me. 

“ No, no, I will not ! ” he cried hoarsely. u I will 
not enter there ! There is no one ! That sound is 
not human, I know, I know ! His lips were white, 
and twitched painfully. His whole appearance was 
the mo$t disgusting in the world to a man, it depicted 
abject terror so perfectly. 

“ Oh! you know, do you? Well, come along; we 
soon shall see.” I put my hand upon the knob and 
jerked him to me as I turned it. 

A pitiable groan came from the room the moment 
the door was opened. The Earl sprang hack and 
struggled frantically ,to escape. 

“ Come, coward ! ” I brought my right hand to 
the assistance of my left, and at last I succeeded in 
forcing him to cross the threshold. 

Another groan trembled from the father end of 
the room, — and Cadwaller’s hand flew to his hilt. 

“ Your victim, I suppose,” I taunted, locking the 
door and putting the key in my pocket. Then I 
crossed to ,the sofa, upon which Sir Alfred lay. 

“ Are you wounded, Sir ? ” I asked. 

He stared straight at me and struggled as though 
to speak, but no sound came forth save another pain- 
ful groan. 

“ Is he alive ? ” The Earl whispered tremblingly 
from beside the door. 


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Mark Everard 


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At the sound of Cadwaller’s voice, a sudden change 
came over the features of the stricken man. His 
eyes blazed like fire and almost started from his head ; 
the veins of his face and neck stood out in grea,t black 
ridges ; and his breast rose as though it would burst. 
He was making a desperate effort to move, hut no part 
hut his eyes succeeded, and they seemed powerless to 
turn in their sockets, or do aught but twitch slightly 
and transmit the inward fire. Even the hands re- 
mained folded upon the breast, like those of a corpse. 
A handkerchief, wdiich I recognised as the Earl’s, 
lying on the floor beside the head, accounted for this 
strange position. 

“ Come here,” I said briefly to Cadwaller, as I 
opened the poor sufferer’s band, that he might not 
choke. Then, as the knave still hesitated : “ Come,” 
I repeated, “ you have no cause for fear ; he is not 
the ghost you thought him. You were a little too 
hasty, my Lord, in laying his body out.” 

When his Lordship saw tha,t the drear sounds had 
come from a live man, and not an angry spirit, as he 
had thought, his self-assurance was not long in re- 
turning. He approached the sofa a little timidly, 
but when he had gazed for a moment upon the wild, 
blazing eyes of the man that he so had wronged, the 
colour came into his face again, and presently he 
turned to me with something of his accustomed inso- 
lence. 

“ This is your work, Sir,” he said quietly. “ ’Tis 

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Mark Everard 


* 


* 


the result of your damned meddling in the supper- 
room.” 

“ Liar, keep a check on your tongue ! ” I com- 
manded, for I saw the effect his words had on Sir 
Alfred. 

The stricken man’s whole form was .trembling with 
some terrible storm that made the beholding of it an 
r gony. It would have been less shocking had his 
aatures moved, but as he was, his struggle was an 
awful spectacle. He seemed racked with pain and 
rage beyond human endurance, and was hound in 
7 onds of no human forging. His breath rushed in 
Irough his teeth with a hissing sound, and escaped 
again in a sobbing groan. His eyes he was attempt- 
ing to turn to Cadwaller, and the nearer they came to 
their goal the more fiercely they burned. Then, at 
last, they beheld the hated object; — a struggle, the 
most savage yet, set in. The mouth drew back at the 
right side and left exposed the teeth, on which a froth 
had gathered ; the right hand twitched for a moment, 
dien opened wide and moved from the other, which 
still seemed dead ; the right leg stirred next in painful 
jerks, bent at the knee with great labour, and pressed 
against the sofa-back, as though to shove its owner to 
the floor. His appearance was shocking beyond my 
power of describing. 

The Earl drew back and turned his face away to 
escape the stare of hate from those awful eyes. I 
sprang to the poor sufferer’s side and raised his 

219 


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Mark Everard 


4 


shoulders upon my arm. But he seemed to take no 
notice of my act ; his eyes remained fixed on Cadwal- 
ler, and he continued his desperate struggle to reach 
the floor. By sheer force of will and burning rage 
Sir Alfred was tearing his body free from the gripe 
of death .that grasped his every muscle. Inch by 
inch his right side was moving, as though fighting a 
weight of lead. His left side still was helpless, the 
arm hanging limp and lifeless from the shoulder, and 
that side of the face fixed and dead as marble, while 
the right twitched and grinned horribly. 

“ Be calm, be calm, Sir ! ” I pleaded, for I knew 
his rage must but hasten the end. 

His reply was another tremendous strain that 
wrenched his every bone, a spasmodic griping of the 
hand, and a yet more hideous grin, as, with my sup- 
port, he wriggled himself into an almost upright posi- 
tion. Death was yielding to a wronged man’s rage. 

“ Stop ! ” cried the Earl, shrill and trembling. 
ic Leave him alone ! The fool is — is coming to life 
again ! ” The King’s dog was giving way again. 
He kept his hand upon his hilt, which he clutched till 
his knuckles were white. 

“ Silence, cur, or you shall be the first to pass ! ” 

Sir Alfred’s right side worked more vigorously. 
How his lips were twitching with more suppleness, 
and some babbling sounds came forth. He was mak- 
ing heroic efforts to launch a curse, I know. 

Cadwaller saw and heard the attempt, for he 

220 


Mark Everard 


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sneaked to the other side of the table, where he stood 
staring fixedly at Sir Alfred, a strange mixture of 
fear and expectation on his face. 

Again Sir Alfred babbled, — and his Lordship 
laughed uneasily, as a woman laughs when over- 
wrought with fear. 

The effect on the stricken man was wonderful. 
His whole right side shook off the last shreds of 
Death’s strong bands ; he clenched his fist and sprang 
from the sofa, then toppled to ,the left, and should 
have fallen but for my support ; his mouth and eyes 
worked madly for a moment, unintelligible words 
rolling out in a torrent. His voice was hoarse with 
pent-up passion, and his words were made thick by a 
useless tongue. 

“ Dog ! ” he forced ou>t at last. “ Dog ! dog ! 
dog! ” For a space this was the only word he could 
pronounce, and he repeated it a many times in satis- 
faction. 

Again my Lord laughed unnaturally, — and chills 
ran through my frame. 

Sir Alfred’s mouth worked hideously. I could 
feel my own muscle strain, as though forced to help 
him to break the power of the stroke. My lips 
twitched and ached in sympathy with his, and my 
eyes were wide with awe. 

“ Dog ! Traitor ! ” He seemed to cough the words 
out. Then came something that I could not catch. 

, . . " Castlemaine ! Castlemaine ! ” He hurled it 


221 


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Mark Everard 


4 


indistinctly forth. “ You — would — make — my 

daughter — into a — Castlemaine ! ” He gasped and 
choked on every word. 

His Lordship grinned a sickly grin and moistened 
his lips with his .tongue. 

“ Kill — the knave ; Everard ! Kill him — kill 
him ! ” He struggled desperately to cross to where 
Cadwaller stood, hut the stroke again had griped 
tightly his right leg; ’twas upon my arm his whole 
weight hung. He realised his helplessness. “ I’m 
done ! — I’m done ! ” he muttered. . . . He gasped 
for a moment, his eyes glaring wildly around the 
room, as though he sought for someone. “ Where is 
she ? ” he choked out suddenly. “ Kot gone ! He 
has not — got her ? ” 

“ Kay, nay, Sir! she is safe! Calm yourself, 
Sir Alfred ! ” I tried to get him back to the sofa, hut 
he struggled against it. 

“ Ko, no ! ” he gasped. “ Quick ; — I’m going ! 
Save her, — Everard ! — save her ! ” His weight grew 
heavier upon my arm, his eyes closed for a little 
space, and his breath came with greater difficulty. A 
convulsion ran through his body, and a sickening 
rattle sounded in his throat. 

My Lord attempted to sigh his relief, but it sound- 
ed like the croak of a raven. 

Sir Alfred sprang into new life, as though the 
sound of Cadwaller’s voice were a match that set off 
a mine of rage within him ; and the Earl stepped 

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back with a high-pitched cry of fear, and hand on 
hilt. 

“ He — he mocks me ! ” coughed Sir Alfred. 
“ Curse you — dog ! A — Castlemaine, eh ! Ha ! 
ha ! ” His laugh was horrible, and the expression 
of the one live side of his face no less so. His right 
arm he stretched ouf as though to gripe the hated 
throat; and with my support he actually hobbled a 
pace forward. 

“ Keep back ! ” cried my Lord hoarsely, his face 
grinning and twitching uncontrollably. “ I’ll kill 
you, by God ! Don’t look at me like that ! ” And 
again he laughed that awful laugh of fear. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” Sir Alfred croaked, “ he fears me ! 
Ha, dog! you would — make her — info a — Castle- 
maine ! You — you told — me so ! And you — 
struck me — with your fist, — dog! I am — coming 
now — to tear — your lying — tongue out — with these 
— dying — fingers ! Hal! ha ! ” The inhuman 
chuckle made me shudder and turn cold. 

“ Back ! back ! ” cried Cadwaller, cringing, yet 
fascinated by the other’s eyes. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” croaked Sir Alfred, “ you would — 
ruin me — if — I did not — give my consent — eh ? 
You may — do your worst — now, but I — shall kill — 
you.” Again he coughed the cough of death and 
hobbled forward, the right hand working in spas- 
modic gripings, eager to tear his Lordship’s throat. 

The Earl was a hideous sight. He cringed beside 

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the table, on which one hand was griped tightly — 
the other held his sword, the point rattling on the 
floor; his face was white and drawn; his eyes start- 
ing from their sockets and staring in fearful fascina- 
tion at the .threatening form coming toward him; 
and his mouth twisted and twitched in fear, as he 
moistened -his lips with his tongue. 

Suddenly, with a curse, he sprang forward and 
flashed his blade across the table. I swung Sir 
Alfred aside. The blow missed him, and Cadwaller 
almost lost his balance as he leaned toward us. 

“ Coward ! ” Sir Alfred croaked, and hurled him- 
self from my arm and fell upon -the table, the grasp- 
ing, claw-like hand shutting relentlessly on the hated 
throat. 

“ Help ! ” Cadwaller choked, and drew back his 
sword. I struck it from his hand. He tore and 
twisted at the hand that held him; his face grew 
purple, .then black ; he tried to scream, but could not ; 
and still the hand did not relax. He struck madly 
at the dead form before him, his mouth opening and 
closing quickly, — but no move came from Sir Al- 
fred, and no sound passed his Lordship’s lips. His 
eyes rolled wildly at me, but I made no move to save 
him. He swayed, gave one last pull at the deadly 
hand, sinking his fingers into it, tottered more un- 
steadily — and fell heavily to the floor. Sir Alfred’s 
body slid partly across the table, — then came a rip- 
ping of linen, and the dead man slipped back again, 

224 


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and to the floor beside me, his Lordship’s band and 
ruffles in his gripe of death. 

One half of the dead face almost smiled, but the 
eyes blazed quite as fiercely as a moment before. 
. . . He had died at the moment he seized Cad- 
waller’s throat. 

My face was wet with horror, and I shuddered as 
I turned away. 

At that moment a scream, shrill, piercing and full 
of terror, rang trembling through the house. Then 
another and another. ’Twas a woman’s voice. 
Yes ! — -yes ! it was hers ! 

“ My God ! such a night ! ” I groaned, as, with 
cold and shaking fingers, 1 sought the door-k ey r 


CHAPTER XIV. 


The door slammed behind me, and I sprang np 
the stairs three steps at a time. Her voice rang in 
my ears and turned me chill at heart. 

“ Help ! help ! ” she screamed. “ Master Ever- 
ard ! — quick ! — here ! ” 

“ Ay, Madam, I come ! I come ! ” I shouted, 
and dashed along the passage toward her calls. 

Another female voice was screaming wildly. 
Then a door slammed, wild laughter pierced the 
darkness, and heavy, deadened blows, as of some one 
hurling his weight against a door, came from a near- 
by room. 

I cursed the darkness that caused me to go slower 
as I drew near. I could not see my hand before me, 
but felt my way along the wall. 

“ Help ! ” screamed the second voice, which I 
knew ,to be that of the maid, Martha. 

u Be quiet! ” Mistress Heron commanded. u We 
are here, Master Everard ! ” She rapped upon the 
door to guide me. 

“ Yes, Madam ! 99 I sprang to the door, knock- 
ing my fingers severely against the frame as I slid 
them quickly along the wall. The heavy blows still 
sounded, and I heard a crackling of wood, as though 

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a door within was giving way. The cause of these 
sounds was working with great fury, for blow on 
blow fell without a moment’s space between. Not a 
word did he speak, but worked grimly on, hurling 
himself against the door with a force that shook the 
walls. 

“ Quick ! ” I cried. “ Open and come out ! ” 

“ The door is locked,” she answered, her voice 
shaking with excitement. 

“ Yes, but unlock it quickly and come forth ! De- 
lay may cost your life ! Quick ! quick ! ” I shook the 
door-knob angrily. 

The maid screamed wildly. “ Oh ! he’s coming ! 
he’s coming ! ” she cried. “ See, Madam, see, the 
door is cracking ! We both shall he murdered ! We 
both shall he murdered ! ” Again she laughed and 
wept with terror. 

“ Silence ! ” cried her mistress. I heard her 
stamp her hare foot upon ,the floor. This was fol- 
lowed immediately hy a sharp slap, and the maid 
lapsed into a whimpering wail that reminded me of 
the little foreign Queen the night she drove with me 
to Whitehall. 

“ Haste ! has,te ! ” I cried again, as I heard the 
heavy blows continue. “ Open, Madam, open ! 
That door, I hear, is giving way ! ” 

“ I cannot open, Sir ! But you must make haste 
if you would save us ; the door is splitting, and I fear 
he means to take my life.” Her voice was almost 

227 


Mark Everard 


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¥ 


calm, but evidently under great force of will, for it 
sounded sharp and shrill. 

“ My God, Madam ! I know he means to take 
your life! Banish this modesty, and let me save 
you ! It — it is dark here, Madam.” 

I’ll swear she laughed, — very low, and for but a 
moment, but laugh she did. “ No, no, it is not that,” 
she said presently. “ The key is not here.” 

“ Not there ! ” The thought sent a chill to my 
heart. 

“ No,” and her voice shook, “ I locked the door 
and took the key to my room, and when I ran in 
here I forgot to bring it ! ” 

The door creaked louder and louder, the unrelent- 
ing fiend hurling his weight in unabated fury. 

“ Where is your room ? Can I get ,the key ? ” I 
felt a cold moisture break out on my forehead 
again. 

“ No, no, no ! He is in my room. This is my 
maid’s. ’Tis the door between that he is breaking 
down ! ” She was incredibly calm for one in her 
terrible position. She saw and fully realised her 
danger, but instead of this knowledge driving her 
frantic with fear, as it would any other woman, it 
made her cool and steady, prepared to face a des- 
perate situation with a courage that few men can 
boast 

I groaned aloud as the horror of her position was 
forced upon me. “ Who can the fiend be ? ” flashed 

228 


Mark Everard 


* 




through my mind. That his object was murder I 
could not doubt, for had it been anything less, he 
would not have been so hold nor determined as to 
attempt to break down a door to follow her, after the 
alarm had been given and he knew that assistance 
was at hand. There she was, shut within four nar- 
row walls, with no chance of escape, and a murder- 
ous ruffian storming at the door, which, most as- 
suredly, must give way ; and there stood I, unable to 
set her free or get at her would-be assassin. If I 
had but had a pistol all should have been well — I 
could have blown the lock into pieces ; but I had only 
my sword, here useless. She trusted in me to take 
her safely through, and here I was failing miserably, 
being defeated by some unknown scoundrel that I 
had not expected, and whose reason for his act I 
could not comprehend. Failing! failing! failing! 
Hearing her murdered, when only a door separated 
me from her! The thought drove me almost mad, 
and I, that never before had known fear, now trem- 
bled and turned faint. All this flashed through my 
mind as swiftly as lightning darts. I thought 
quickly, oh, how quickly! for my heart was in each 
thought. 

“ Which is the door of your room ? ” I shoufed, as 
I heard the creaking oak crack louder — a warning 
that the end. was near. 

“ The first door to ,the right ; but it is locked ! He 
entered through the window ! ” 


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4 


4 


“ The window ! ” Ah, if I had time I might yet 
save her ! 

“ Yes, the window ! ” she called above the ever- 
increasing noise. 

“ Quick ! ” I cried. “ Move anything heavy 
against the door, — a bed or anything, — and hold out 
for your life! I shall save you if you can hold 
out ! ” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” she answered. “ I trust in you ! ” 
The voice and words came as a spur more potent 
than all others, as I sprang recklessly along the dark 
passage to the stairs. 

The thought that it was because of the warning I 
had given her that she had taken the care to lock her 
maid’s door and take the key flashed reproachfully 
through my mind, as I dashed down the steps at 
break-neck speed, and I cursed myself for my cau- 
tion. On the landing I paused long enough to place 
my fingers between my lips and whistle shrilly, my 
old signal to Toby. In the hall below-stairs I almost 
collided with two half-dressed and sorely frightened 
servants, who at sight of me fled in terror, screaming 
that I had murdered their mistress, and calling for 
help. 

“ Oh, if I can be in time ! ” I groaned between 
clenched teeth, as I swung the main door open and 
sprang for.th. Never before had I seemed so slow 
of foot. I was a laggard, and, though I strained 
every muscle to force a greater speed, the ground 

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seemed barely to crawl beneath my feet. I felt as 
in some terrible dream, straining to reach a goal in 
time, but cramped and retarded by some strange, ma- 
licious force. My head throbbed, my breath came 
with a great effort and painfully. I could have 
sobbed like a child with rage as I pictured the creak- 
ing door give w T ay, and saw her writhing in the hands 
of her assassin. My God ! would I never reach that 
window ? It seemed a year, a decade, a lifetime, 
since I had left the upper hall, with her sweet voice 
ringing in my ears ! “ I trust in you ! 99 she had 

called. And would I fail her? Ho! Or if I 
should, I would not see another sun! I shouted 
aloud with joy as I beheld the large bow window 
directly beneath the lattice at which I had seen the 
sad little face in the moonlight. 

“ At last ! ” I shouted, and dashed toward a lad- 
der that leaned against the lower window. My 
hands shook with excitement as I seized the steps 
and mounted. The lattice above me was partly open, 
and the cries of the frantic maid came forth dis- 
tinctly. The blows were thundering yet, but with 
each blow came another, louder and sharper. From 
this I knew that my warning had been followed — 
something had been placed against the door, which 
so far had saved it. As I stepped from the ladder 
and reached for the little window, a hand that held a 
knife was thrust out quickly, and a savage blow 
aimed at me. 


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4 


“ Ha, dog ! ” I cried, and seized the wrist. But 
he twisted it from my grasp with a strength surpris- 
ing, and slammed the window shut. 

Blows still sounded from within, hut not on the 
creaking door. They were short, sharp and fre- 
quent, and were doubtless made by a sword-hilt. 
Then I heard Toby’s voice. 

“ Quick ! quick ! open, I say ! ” came the gruff old 
soldier’s tones. “ Come, come ! — am I to be kept 
much longer ? ” One would think him the King of 
England in a fit of impatience from the authority 
in his voice. Again came the sharp knocking. 
“ Haste ! haste ! or I must needs use force ! If you 
would save your skin, obey ! ” 

I still stood listening, awaiting the outcome of 
Toby’s action. We had the knave — whoever he 
was — between us, and so long as he was unable to 
leave the window, he could do no further damage to 
the door of the maid’s room. Martha whimpered a 
little, but paused as though to listen whenever Toby 
spoke. Ho word came from Mistress Heron, except 
a call to Toby that she was safe. Ah, there was a 
heart ! Of such quality are heroes made ! Ho 
weeping there, nor quavering voice! Zounds! her 
like the world never again shall see ! 

“ Come, I do not wish to injure the door ! And 
if you defy me longer I shall take your life ! ” The 
little man’s voice was more angry. I could tell by 
its sharpness that his patience was at an end, and 

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that the fear of damaging the door would restrain 
him no longer. 

“ Eire the lock, Toby! ” I shouted. “ ’Twill save 
my breaking this window ! 99 

Faith, the place where I stood was not the most 
desirable position one could wish for either attack or 
defence. The rounding top of a bow window — even 
though it be a large one — is a mighty poor place for 
a fight, especially when your antagonist is to spring 
from a casement, the bottom of which is on a level 
with your breast. After giving my order to Toby, 
the lack of soundness of my footing warned me to 
put myself in readiness for what would happen 
when the little man would burst into the room. The 
murderous ruffian within would not show fight, I 
thought — that is, to Toby. No, it was more to be 
expected that he would prefer to face me, for he 
knew that I was without firearms, and standing upon 
a most uncertain platform. Had the thought of re- 
treating to the ground occurred to me all would have 
been well. But retreat is a thing that never has come 
quickly to me, as it does to some others, for one is so 
liable to trip in going backward that I had grown 
accustomed to do very well withouf this mode of 
movement. 

“ Now, Sir, if you rush out when the door opens 
I have another pistol for you ! ” Toby shouted in 
warning. Then he called to Mistress Heron : “ Be 
not alarmed, Madam, at the fire ; I am only unlocking 

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the door ! Keep back, now ! ” be growled angrily — 
and I knew be must be speaking to one of the serv- 
ants. “ If you stand there you may be hurt ! 'Yes, 
that is better ! Ready, Sir ? ” 

“ Yes, Toby ! Come on ! ” I crouched as low 
and close to the house as possible, keeping well to 
one side of the casement to avoid a stab from the 
murderous-looking knife that I had escaped a few 
moments before. 

Crash! came the sound of the pistol. The maid 
screamed loudly, the window above me shook a little. 
I heard a moving within, as though the knave was 
preparing to come forth. Then came another crash, 
not of a pistol this time, but of a weight hurled 
against a door with a shattered lock. I bent my arm 
to protect my head and to grapple with the fugitive. 
Another crash against the door — the window above 
my head flew open — a blade flashed in the last rays 
of the setting moon — I caught a wrist as hard as 
steel — and the next moment was struggling savagely 
with a black, lithe form that twisted like a snake, 
and fought to free the hand that held .the knife. Kot 
a word did my antagonist utter, but once I caught a 
gleam of white teeth beneath a black masque, as his 
face came for an instant into a ray of moonlight. 

“ Twist him round, Sir ! ” Toby growled, thrust- 
ing his head without. “ A little more, Sir, and I 
can reach him ! ” 

But my antagonist also heard these directions, and 

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seemed not inclined to make himself a willing victim 
to the bntt of Toby’s pistol, which gleamed above 
our heads. He bent low, wrapped his free arm 
around my waist, contrived to get his foot against 
the side of the house, and hurled himself recklessly 
forward. There seemed to be but little difference 
in our strength — I had a small advantage in this re- 
spect, I think; but he was more agile, and with his 
foot against the wall had no great difficulty in forc- 
ing me back. I felt my foot slip — saw Toby lean 
still farther forward and grasp wildly a,t the hand 
with the knife — saw the window next to where we 
fought fly open and a white figure lean far out, 
wring her hands, and shout to Toby: “ Make haste! 
Make haste! Quick! he will be killed! Merciful 
Heaven, save him ! ” 

“ Hold on, Sir ! ” Toby growled, and drew his 
sword. 

My foot struck the little railing that stood about 
a foot high around the edge of our slippery platform. 
Toby’s blade flashed as he drew it baqk to lunge. My 
antagonist again pressed forward; my balance was 
lost, and we both pitched over the railing into the 
darkness below, struggling furiously as we fell. In 
,the air I managed to turn him that he would not fall 
fairly upon me. Then an oath rolled out from 
Toby, a groan from Mistress Heron, — and the earth 
sprang up out of the darkness and crashed against 
us with a blaze of stars. . . . 


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A moment of darkness — the form with which I 
was locked rolled from me — I felt a hand feeling 
over my heart — footsteps, that sounded as from a 
vast distance, came hastily down the ladder — fingers 
pressed between my ribs, as though well to mark the 
exact spot of ,the beating — a blade, which seemed 
huge and crooked, flashed between the starry sky and 
me. . . . My scattered senses then came back, and 
I shifted quickly to one side. I felt in my side ,the 
sharp bite of steel — then came a rush of feet — a mo- 
ment later a pistol shot rang out — more running, 
which ended in a storm of oaths at the edge of the 
trees near-by. 

I sat up, leaning upon my left arm, but it pained 
malignantly and forced me to stagger to my feet. I 
could feel the warm blood trickling down my side to 
my waist-belt. It felt soothing, so I leaned against 
the great bow window and gazed up at the stars, 
wondering at the strange sounds that floated down 
from the windows above me. Some one was weep- 
ing wildly, a door banged, and more distant voices 
rose in excited shoutings. A light now streamed 
from the window of the maid’s room, and then — 
yes, I could swear to that voice — “ Button that, and 
stop weeping at once ! ” The sobbing became more 
subdued — it sounded far off and soothing. 

“ Oh, you will be murdered, Mistress ! Please, 
Madam, don’t go ! ” 

“ Silence, ingrate ! He has given his life for me ! 

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Haste ! ” The voice was strained and trembling, and 
seemed to catch in ,the beautiful throat that spoke the 
words. 

“ But you will be murdered ! Oh ! Mistress ! 
Mistress ! ” 

“ How who will be murdered ? ” I muttered, my 
hand pressed to my head. “ Hot Mistress Heron, by 
Heaven! Ho, not while Mark Everard wears a 
sword ! ” I staggered along the wall in ,the direc- 
tion of the main entrance. The house seemed quar- 
relsome, and struck me most cruelly every few paces 
I took. The stars were gay, for they whirled mer- 
rily around the sky and dipped gracefully to the 
earth, which rose to meet them, harmoniously keep- 
ing time with the strange beating within my head. 
I walked over hills and through hollows, missing 
firm ground where I expected it, and suddenly en- 
countering it when I thought ,to step into the trough. 
It rocked and rolled surprisingly. ’Twas a sea of 
earth, tossing most boisterously. At every encounter 
with the house something would bite me in the side, 
and then my left arm would ache most ridiculously. 
Even my sword — my oldest companion and best 
friend — was absurdly provoking. It persisted in 
conducting itself like a thing of inexperience. It 
seemed to be in league with the wall. With every 
other step I took it would insert itself between my 
legs and hurl me forward or against the stones — 
against those vicious stones that held the knives. 

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Once I fell upon a rolling wave of earth and had a 
most ludicrous time in regaining my feet, for the 
ground heaved and rocked so absurdly that it turned 
me light at head. Faith, I should have despaired 
of reaching the door fhat night, and should have 
been content to sleep upon that soft wave that rocked 
me so soothingly had it not been for the words that 
kept ringing in my ears. 

“ You will be murdered, Mistress ! You will be 
murdered, Mistress ! ” How clearly they rang, even 
though they did come from an almost incredible dis- 
tance ! They spurred me on when I had become dis- 
couraged, and was sore tempted to rest in comfort 
until the storm had passed. 

“ Mistress Heron murdered ! Ha ! ha ! Ho, not 
while Mark Everard wears a sword ! ” I cried. But 
my voice was lost in the roaring of the waves — 
those strange green waves that dashed against the 
house and broke into a spray of stars. “ Zounds ! 
she shall not be murdered if the whole earth upsef! 
* I trust in you/ she said. Ha ! and shall I fail her ? 
Hot while I wear a sword, even if it is unaccount- 
ably mischievous and provoking.” 

I plunged ahead over the rolling sea. Ah! there 
were the steps. They sprang forward to meet me. 

“ A little impulse and rough, my friends ! ” I 
admonished, as I picked myself up from where the 
top one had thrown me. 

The door-knob avoided my hand, and dodged play- 

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Mark Everard 


4 


4 


fully from side to side, and it took me a moment or 
two ere I became used to its motions. But finally 
I seized it and smiled at i,ts fruitless efforts to break 
loose again. 

“ She shall not be murdered while Mark Everard 
wears a sword ! ” I shouted, and swung the door open 
and lurched into the room. 

Zounds! even the house within was monstrous 
playful and unsteady. The floor rolled as unevenly 
as the lawn without. The door slammed shut be- 
hind me, and I turned to see who had dared to 
wrench it so roughly from my grasp. ~No one was 
in sight, and I saw from the waves running along 
the walls that the door itself was responsible. Many 
more candles had been placed upon the table since I 
left the room a few moments before. Zooks! the 
table was one mass of lights — playful, graceful lights 
that danced right merrily, twisting in and out in 
soothing evolutions. But I had no leisure to watch 
the pretty scene, for some one was in danger of being 
murdered — some one with a voice like music and a 
heart of kindness — some one that trusted in me to 
save her. There could be no dallying to gaze upon 
a table full of mad candles, even though their glitter 
was alluring. I moved on with uncertain steps 
toward the bronze Sultana standing upon the post at 
the foot of the stairs. Ah ! now I saw the cause of 
all the wild disturbance. She danced slowly and 
gracefully upon her little stage, bending her body 

239 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


from side to side in most surprising curves., and 
waving her hand, full of many-coloured lights, in 
circles overhead. That spray of candles was her 
wand, I saw. She must be stopped — then all would 
be well. I stepped over the uncertain floor toward 
her. I raised my hand and seized her by the ankle. 
My arm pained me cruelly as I raised it, but I was 
determined to stop this dizzy whirl. Zooks ! she 
uttered a low cry as I caught her — a sympathetic lit- 
tle cry that was half a sob. I looked up at her in 
surprise. Her head was held high, and she still 
waved her wand of lights. Again I heard the cry: 
“ You are killed ! You are killed ! ” it sobbed very 
low. 

“ Who is killed ? ” I asked, and drew my sword. 
“ Hot Mistress Heron ! ” My throat ached and 
my breath came with an effort. I stared wonder- 
ingly at the bronze figure, but it paid no heed to 
me. 

“ Oh, noble, noble soul ! You have given your 
life for mine ! ” 

I looked around the room, deeply puzzled. Then 
I felt something upon my shoulder. I turned my 
eyes to it, and beheld a hand — a delicate white hand 
to which an arm was attached, and at the end of the 
arm a figure in a long, loose robe. I followed the 
form to ,the feet, and saw that it was standing upon 
the first step of the stairs. My eyes wandered back 
to the face. Long, waving, dark brown hair fell 

240 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


over the shoulders and cheeks. I leaned forward 
and peered into the strangely moving face. 

“ A noble gentleman ! 99 

Zounds ! how could I ever mistake that voice ? — 
there was none other like it in the world ! 

“ Pardon, Madam,” I said thickly, leaning my 
sword against my leg and reaching for my hat. But 
my hand only caught my hair; by some strange 
chance my hat was gone. “ Really, Madam, I did 
not see you. I thought it was the Sultana that 
spoke. A thousand apologies for my seeming rude- 
ness ! But, you see, the house rocks so absurdly that 
it has made my head to swim. Ha! ha! ’tis a 
strange storm, to be sure.” 

“ Oh, God ! ” she groaned. “ And all for me ! ” 
She vanished from where she stood, and pres- 
ently I felt something thrust against the backs of 
my knees, and as they treacherously gave way an 
arm was gently pressed across my shoulders, and 
I sank softly, oh, how softly! into a great arm- 
chair. 

“ Oh, Madam ! ” I muttered, “ this is absurd, quite 
absurd ! ” I struggled to rise, but she gently 
pressed me back. 

“ Please do not move ! Oh, do not move ! There, 
there ! — to please me ! 99 

“ But you stand while I sit! ’Tis absurd, quite 
absurd! And you are in trouble. I heard you 
weeping but now. May not I serve you ? ” 

16 241 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


I heard her stifle a sob and felt her fingers at my 
throat, loosening my band. And all the while she 
continued to speak in a soothing, broken voice, 
sweeter .than anything I ever heard before. ? Twas 
such a novel experience that I had not the courage to 
protest, but lay still and watched that lovely face, 
full of tenderness, as she leaned before me like some 
glorious vision. I felt very faint now and tired, so 
I closed my eyes and smiled contentedly as I heard 
her give an order for some one to fetch wine at 
once. She spoke to me as to a petted child, and I 
lay wondering that such gentleness could live in a 
world of blows. Then I felt her hand shudder as it 
rested upon my shoulder, and she drew her breath 
sharply, as though she were hurt. 

I sprang upright in my seat. “ Where ? Who is 
it ? ” I cried, and raised my point. 

She only wept softly and gently pressed me back 
again. “ Please, please, for me, be still ! ” she 
pleaded in my ear. 

“ But — but you are hurt, or alarmed ! I fel,t you 
tremble ! ” 

“ Ho, no ! Ho, no ! ” She turned her face away. 

I put my hand stealthily to my side. It came 
away wet and sticky. I drew my coat more to the 
front, that she might not see. 

“ Here, take this,” she said tenderly, and held a 
wineglass to my lips. 

I drank greedily, for my throat was parched. 

242 


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A door opened very softly. I turned my eyes 
toward the sound, as did the lady. The Earl of 
Cadwaller glided from the chamber of death, rolling 
unnaturally and keeping time with the bronze Sul- 
tana. In his hand he held something white, which I 
soon made out to be his ruffles. He started and drew 
back in alarm when he saw us, as did Mistress Heron 
at sight of him. The servant took the glass from 
the hand of his Mistress and retired to a little dis- 
tance, keeping his gaze fixed on me. Cadwaller’s 
eyes were wild, and hair disheveled — far from being 
the calm, self-possessed and sneering nobleman of an 
hour before. As he stared at me, however, his face 
changed from its look of fear to one of malignant 
hate. I saw his eyes and mouth change slowly as he 
took in the situation. The eyes became smaller and 
more fiery, until they looked like glowing coals, the 
mouth grew firmer and slowly drew back at the cor- 
ners, until loose-lipped terror was transformed into 
snarling exultation. 

“ You may withdraw, : ” he said hoarsely to the 
servant. 

“ Stay ! ” the lady commanded, as. the man turned 
to go. 

“ And you also, Madam, ” the Earl continued. 
“ ’Tis late for you to be up, and this fellow and I 
have business to transact.” 

“ Since when, my Lord, have I taken orders from 
you? Master Everard is sore wounded and cannot 

243 


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♦ 


4 


talk with. you. James, call some one to aid you in 
assisting Master Everard to his room.” 

“ Oh, ho ! ” said his Lordship, peering at her 
closely. “ So, ho! ” He stroked his jaw for a mo- 
ment, his look becoming more hateful as he leaned 
forward and rocked in time with the candles. “ Our 
business will require no words, and the interview 
will not be to your liking, I make no doubt. Come, 
stand aside ! ” He reached a waving arm toward 
her, but she shuddered and drew back nearer ,to me. 

The wine tingled through my veins and drove out 
the chills that were creeping in. I smiled at his 
Lordship, and rose with a bow. “ You see, Sir,” I 
said, resting upon the back of the chair, Mistress 
Heron is of no mind to accept your Lordship’s or- 
ders; and, as you seem determined to enforce your 
will, I find it necessary to act as arbitrator. I decide 
against you, Sir, and warn you to desist ” (I paused 
for breath) “ in your persecution of this lady — or I 
shall be compelled — to drive you hence.” 

He rolled about most ludicrously and laughed 
hoarsely. Then he drew his sword and stepped for- 
ward, his blade curving most provokingly as he 
brought it up to guard. 

“ For shame ! ” cries the lady. “ Coward ! would 
you kill a dying man ? ” And, despite my efforts 
to prevent her, she stepped before me, her arm below 
mine in support. 

“ Hay, Madam,” I muttered thickly, “ permit me, 

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I shall rid the world of a villain, if you will — pardon 
the — execution — in your presence.” 

Cadwaller laughed again. “Ha! you are brave, 
Master Everard; you take refuge behind petticoats! 
’Slife ! a brave soldier ! ” 

“ You see now, Madam, how — urgent is the mat- 
ter. His Lordship would rest. Pray pardon me.” 
I attempted to free myself, but she clung to me and 
drew back the left side of my coat ere I could pre- 
vent. 

“ See, coward, with whom you would fight ! 
Shame, my Lord! Behold that gash, Master Cow- 
ard, and blush for the words you have spoken to the 
noblest heart in England ! ” 

“ Ah, Madam, ? tis nothing ! Permit me — I 
pray ! ” The room danced more wildly as I looked 
down at her little white hand holding the coat back 
from the bloody gash in the clothing, from which 
great clots of blood were bulging. 

She was stronger than I, and held me fast. 

“ This is the man that you would fight — the man 
that has been foully murdered in saving me from the 
hands of an assassin while you slept, my Lord ! See, 
he can scarce hold his sword ! ” 

“ Oh, I protest ! I protest ! ’Tis absurd — quite 
absurd ! Engarde, my Lord ! ” 

“ ’Tis not my wish that he should hold his sword, 
Madam,” Cadwaller sneered. 

“ Coward ! ” she cried. 


245 


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+ 


* 


He shrugged his shoulders. “ Doubtless, but I 
shall assist him to pass. Stand aside ! ” 

My blade had become monstrous heavy, and wrig- 
gled like a snake as I again raised it, and, gently 
putting the lady from me, lurched to one side and 
got my back against the rocking post. Cad waller 
made a savage lunge before I was in position, but by 
instinct more than by reason I put it aside with my 
fantastic blade. The lady screamed, called for help 
and attempted to step between us; but my Lord 
changed position and roughly thrust her back, then 
sharply engaged with me. My old steel, though it 
was playing me strange tricks, forgot not its duty, 
for it sprang to meet his every trust. 

“ Ha ! ha ! my Lord ! ” I laughed, “ your arm — 
has become — less sore. You fight — well — very well 
— for one — so sorely — hurt.” My breath came in 
gasps, and with great difficulty. The room whirled 
swiftly, and I had much ado to keep my hold on the 
post with my left hand. It swung and twisted and 
struck me so cruelly that I could have cried out 
with rage. We fought for an hour, a day, for ages, 
and still the swords clicked with a force that almost 
hurled me from my feet. I saw Mistress Heron in 
the far, far distance. She was retreating backward, 
very stealthily, and she waved gracefully, like a deli- 
cate flower, as she faded in the red mist tha,t came 
floating through the room. Her face was very anx- 
ious and her eyes wide, very wide, and full of pity. 

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♦ 


* 


Her hand was griped into her wavy hair, where it 
clutched painfully. She seemed to move with the 
undulations of the floor, and faded gradually behind 
my Lord Cadwaller. His Lordship fought on, a 
little wildly now, and he swore most foully when a 
twist in my sword gave his wrist a wrench. 

“Ha! ha! my Lord — is injured!” I laughed. 
“ You are daring — to play with such — tools, Sir ! ” 

An arm flashed in front of the Earl’s neck, then 
wrapped around it. His point sank to the floor, and 
he cursed unreasonably as he shook himself free and 
threw the lady from him. 

“ How I shall — kill you, — dog ! ” 1 gasped. “ You 
are deserving — of no — consideration! Haste, Mas- 
ter Spaniel ! ” I made a swift lunge, hut the post 
sprang back and jerked me with it. I swore and 
gave another lunge, hut my side seemed to split, and 
it threw me far to the left. The candles upon the 
table rushed toward me. I heard Cadwaller laugh, 
and saw his blade flash at me, hut I wearily put it 
aside as the steps of the stairs came up against me. 

“ I am sorry — Madam, — hut the — Sultana has — 
cast a spell upon me.” 

Again the steel flashed toward my chest, but I 
caught it with a great shock upon my hilt. 

“ Toby — will save — you,” I gasped, and rolled to 
the restful floor. 

There was a great noise of rushing feet, an oath, a 
loud trembling call from her for help, and a confused 

24 7 


Mark Everard 


* 


4 


gabbling of servants. I felt my sword snatched 
from my hand, and something brushed against my 
cheek. 

“ Oh, cowards ! — cowards all ! Seize him ! — 
Seize him ! ” 

I turned my head and glanced along the floor until 
I beheld Cadwaller. My eyes followed his form 
from the feejt up, and finally rested upon the hand- 
some, sneering face that now was blazing with a fire 
of fury. A servant rushed toward him as I looked, 
but my Lord dealt him a back-hand blow upon the 
arm with the flat of his sword, and the fellow sneaked 
off, whining and rubbing the bruise. 

“ Help ! help ! ” again called Mistress Heron. 
The voice came from very near me, and again some- 
thing brushed against my cheek. I stared at the soft 
thing that so strangely had caressed me, and dis- 
covered that it was- a cloth. I followed it up, and 
came to the conclusion that it was a woman’s gown — 
yes, it was hers, for there was that wavy hair at the 
top. Most surprising, to be sure ! 

“ Come, Mistress, this folly must cease! You 
were not made to play the Amazon. Away from 
there until I despatch your cringing paramour.” 

“ Oh ! ” she cried sharply, and started back a 
little. 

“ Ha ! ha ! I struck the mark, it would seem ! ” 

“ Coward!” 

I sprang up quickly, when I grasped the situation, 

248 


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* 


* 


but my side stabbed and stabbed, and took my 
breath away. I was unable to get above a half-sit- 
ting position, leaning with my elbow upon the first 
Step, to which I clung to keep from falling. 

“ Come away, Mistress Amazon ! ” Cadwaller 
shouted angrily. “ You but waste time ; his doom 
is sealed ! ” 

“ You first must murder me, my Lord Cadwal- 
ler !” 

Zounds ! I knew that blade — that long and heavy 
blade, .that took two slender, snow-white hands to 
hold it out toward that sneering, hateful face. ’Slife ! 
she was fighting for me. Fighting for me! — a 
woman fighting for Mark Everard ! Monstrous ! I 
struggled almost to my feet, swayed from side to 
side — and finally collapsed at her feet, cursing my 
failing strength. 

Cadwaller laughed while I struggled. “ I now 
shall despatch your grovelling paramour! ” he 
hissed, then repeated : “ your paramour ! ” He 
quickly stepped forward and aimed his point at me. 
She struck at it sharply and knocked the blade far 
wide. 

“ Ha ! dog ! you fight — a woman ! Brave work, — 
scoundrel ! ” I choked out, and crawled toward him. 

But she stepped before me and aimed a sweeping 
blow at the coward’s head. He struck it aside as 
though it had been a reed, and sent it whirling to 
the floor. The lady screamed and clasped her hands 

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before her. The knave sprang toward me and drew 
hack his blade to s,trike. 

“ I am first ! ” she cried, with a catch in her 
voice, and threw herself upon her knees between us. 

“ Ha, shameless ! come away from there ! You 
are not for the slaughter, my fine lady ! ” He 
seized her arm with his free hand and roughly pulled 
her struggling to him. 

“ Oh, God ! ” she screamed, striking wildly. 
“ Cowards, save him ! save him ! He will murder 
him before my eyes ! Save him, or I will kill you 
all! Quick! — quick — help me! Oh, God! God 
where is Toby? Toby! Toby! Toby! your master 
is being murdered! Oh, Toby! Quick! — quick! 
Devil ! Fiend ! Devil ! Oh, God, save him ! Is there 
no other man in the world ? ” She screamed, 
scratched, and even bit at her persecutor, while I 
cursed, raved, struggled to my feet — and fell again. 
“ Devil ! Murderer ! Oh, God, has all the world for- 
saken him? Toby! Toby! Toby! Oh, God! God! 
God ! Where, where is Toby? ” 

“ Here, Madam ! ” The door flew open, then 
crashed shut. “ The devil ! ” rolled out in a voice 
of thunder, and I heard a blade shriek from the speed 
wi,th which it left its scabbard. 

“ Don’t kill — him, Toby ; — he’s mine ! ” I gasped, 
again raising myself upon my elbow. 

The little man rushed upon the Earl and his heroic 
little antagonist. She now was struggling to break 

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4k 


loose, but the coward held her fast and thrust her 
between himself and Toby’s flashing steel. She 
scratched like a tigress, missing no chance of inflict- 
ing pain or humiliation. Her breath came in gasps, 
her face was white and drawn, her hair flying 
wildly, her lips firm with the determination of a no- 
ble soul, her eyes flashing fire, but with every oppor- 
tunity turning a pitying glance to me, as though 
measuring the distance that still kept me beyond the 
swing of the fatal sword. Zounds ! what a woman ! 

Toby’s blade stopped in a downward stroke, in 
which ,the flat side was turned to his Lordship’s head, 
for the contemptible coward stooped behind the lady. 
The little man smothered an oath and shifted his 
grasp on a pistol from handle to muzzle. Clouded as 
was my brain, I at once divined his purpose. He 
lowered his point and stepped within the striking dis- 
tance of Caldwaller’s sword. The other saw the op- 
portunity and flashed forward, hurling himself with 
a force sufficient to drive his sword up to the hilt 
through Toby’s breast — if Toby had remained idle. 
Wha,t really did happen was quite different. Toby’s 
long blade struck his Lordship’s to the floor — held it 
there — slid along with a whistle until the two hilts 
crashed together; the pistol in the left hand disap- 
peared, handle first, over Mistress Heron’s shoulder 
— thuck ! came a blow — and the Earl of Cadwaller 
sank to the floor in a shapeless heap. 

“ Thank God ! ” I heard the lady gasp. 

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Then my head went to the floor again. . . . 

There was a great confusion of voices ; someone 
rolled me over until I rested upon my hack; wine 
was poured down my throat until I was almost 
strangled ; water ran cold over my wounded side, 
smarting shrewdly — and at last I made out some 
words coming from directly above me. 

“ Oh, it is terrible ! — terrible ! Has he ever been 
wounded so badly before ? ” 

“ Yes, Madam, yes, ,to be sure,” came gruffly from 
my side. “ A little more steady, Madam, if you 
please, or the drip from the candle will strike him. 
Thank you, that is better.” 

“ But can he, can he live with that great cut in his 
poor side ? And he fought so nobly, when he could 
scarce lift — lift his sword.” A hot drop fell upon 
my cheek. 

I groaned as I tried to open my eyes, but could not. 

Toby cleared his throat very noisily. “ Yes, Mad- 
am, he’ll soon recover. He’s been cu,t up worse 
than this, and been in the saddle twelve hours after. 
You’ve saved the best gentleman in the world, 
Madam, — that’s what you have done, — and I never 
can — repay the — the debt I owe you, Madam.” 
Again he cleared his throat roughly, after which a 
great tearing of linen took place. 

“ Thank — thank God if I have ! ” Another hot 
drop fell upon my cheek. 

This was strange, monstrous strange, that any 

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one would weep over me ! Tears never before 
bad fallen for Mark Everard! Tears for Mark 
Everard, whose sword was the father of more curses 
than prayers! Eor Mark Everard, the swaggering 
adventurer and duellist ! Preposterous ! Zooks ! 
they seemed to steal what I always had considered my 
manhood. ’Twas necessary that they should cease. 

“ Pardon, Madam/’ I muttered, struggling with a 
great drowsiness that was stealing over me, “ but do 
— no,t be troubled — for me. Your own position — 
causes me — much more anxiety — than this — scratch. 
Pray, be composed ; — in the morning — I shall — be 
well, — and shall — continue — where to-night — I so 
miserably — have — failed.” 

I felt her body shake with a smothered sob, — and 
then I knew for the first time that my head was rest- 
ing in her lap. 

Toby tied on his temporary bandages while I 
spoke. “ There,” he said suddenly, “ fetch me that 
chair.” 

Two men, of whose presence I had not known, hast- 
ened forward with the arm-chair. 

“ No, not that ! ” I gasped. “ No chair — for me ! 

You would think — me a ” I had intended to say 

“ woman,” but the thought of .the noble lady beside 
me suddenly checked my tongue. 

“ A what ? ” she whispered, bending down until 
her soft hair swept my cheeks. 

My mood favoured confession. “ I was about to 

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say — ‘ woman/ but after — this night — ;the word has 
— a different — meaning.” Waves of sleep rushed 
into my head. 

“ And you are a hero,” she whispered. 

And then I floated off through billowy space. 


254 


CHAPTER XV. 


The sun was shining brightly across the foot of 
my bed, and chasing elusive little shadows thrown 
from the leaves of the tree beside the window. Up 
and down, across and back, ran the shadows, the 
golden spots ever at their heels, but never quite 
catching their subtile prey. The chase became inter- 
esting, then almost exciting, and finally bewildering, 
as the little dark spots dodged, vanished and reap- 
peared, constantly on the move, darting hither and 
thither, weaving fantastic designs with their inter- 
mingled ways. One large spot finally caught my 
eye. He was more interesting than his fellows. 
There was more dignity in his movements, more grace 
in the way he avoided the thrusts of the golden blade 
that followed him, and more regularity in his course. 
Back and forth he moved, making no effort to avoid 
his little comrades. He trampled them under foot 
without a halt or apparent compunction. Some- 
times he came to the middle of the bed, stopped 
and retraced his steps; sometimes he went all the 
way across, then wandered back and partly crossed 
the floor ; sometimes he rushed in haste across the 
bed with a speed that forced him up the wall. Zooks ! 
’twas a contest of no little spirit. I blinked and 

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watched every move. Then he was almost quiet for 
a time ; he moved lazily hack and forth across the 
bed, the ray fencing easily and waiting a good open- 
ing. I held my breath lest I should frighten them 
away. Presently, without a moment’s warning, the 
ray sprang forward. Back jumped the shadow, 
rushed up the wall, doubled beautifully and sprang 
to the floor without a sound. 

“ Mighty well done, my boy ! ” I approved. 

“ Oh ! ” came a little startled cry from beside me, 
and a book fell to the floor. 

I turned my head toward the spot whence the ex- 
clamation had come, — and caught my breath in sur- 
prise. There, seated in the arm-chair from the hall 
below, sat Mistress Heron, her face a little pale and 
her eyes wide with surprise, as she stared at me as 
though I had been a ghost. I blinked and rubbed 
my eyes to make sure that I was not dreaming. It 
was no dream. There she sat, her hands clasped be- 
fore her, her lips parted just enough to show a row of 
shining pearls, and her bosom moving quickly. Her 
whole pose bespoke alarm or deep anxiety. The 
situation was — to say the least — most unusual and 
perplexing. 

“ Will you take some wine ? ” she asked very 
quietly, putting her hand upon my forehead. 

“ Zooks ! ” I muttered to myself, “ am I mad ? ” 
Aloud I said : “ Really, Madam, I — I — this is — 
well — I don’t quite understand.”. I felt like a fool, 

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and feared lest I should betray my madness by my 
speech. 

“ There, there ; you must not talk,” she warned. 

“ Must not talk ? ” I puzzled, as she stepped to the 
table and poured out a brimming glass of wine. 
“ Zooks ! what a woman ! ” I whispered within me, 
as she came smilingly to the bedside, her finger to her 
lip — a warning that I was not to speak. 

“ ¥ow you must be very good and try obedience, 
merely as a change. My first order is: you must 
not talk nor move. ’Twill be difficult to obey me, I 
know, but I must be very severe. At the first move 
from you, I shall cry: — Halt! But I shall not 
apologise for saying it, as a friend of mine did, ‘ once 
upon a time/ as the fable says.” 

“ A friend of mine,” I repeated, and a thrill ran 
through me as she inserted her slender fingers be- 
tween my head and the pillow, attempting to raise me 
that I might drink of the wine. 

I raised myself quickly to my elbow, — but uttered 
an exclamation as a pain shot through me. 

“ Oh, how independent we are ! ” she cried. 
u But you must not do that. And I scarcely had 
finished telling you not to move.” 

“ But ” 

“ Silence, Sir ! Dear, dear ! you break my every 
order the moment I give it. Now drink.” 

A second command was not necessary, for my 
tongue was parched. 

17 , 


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“ I thank you so, so much,” I smiled as she took 
the glass from me. “ You are so good. But ” 

She put her hand over my mouth. “ I like praise, 
but I must stop you when you commence to find fault. 
The moment you say ‘ hut/ my hand shall go over 
your mouth.” 

A reply came to my lips, but I checked it as I 
thought of her position and saint-like kindness. 
“ Zounds ! ” I muttered, “ this is no woman ; she is 
an angel ! The form and face of a goddess, a heart 
all kindness, a hero’s courage, and a sweet native in- 
nocence walking hand in hand with a rare knowl- 
edge ! ” I closed my eyes that she might not misin- 
terpret the admiration shining in them. Such kind- 
ness was beyond my understanding. And to have it 
come from a woman, but made it all the more remark- 
able. For I always had thought of them as witless, 
thoughtless, soulless creatures that thought of naught 
but power, intrigue and the gratification of vanity. 
My very ignorance of .them had made me to think I 
knew them. I had thought them all of a feather, 
from the barmaid to the princess, differing but in 
degree and opportunity. Alas, alas ! how far, how 
absurdly far, from the wholesome truth ! 

The wine now began to revive my memory. 
“ What time is it ? ” I asked. 

“ Between five and six o’clock.” 

“ Between five and six ! And in the afternoon ? ” 


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“ How, now, now, do be calm ! There is no cause 
for such excitement ! ” 

“ But ” 

“Tut, tut, tut ! Have I not warned you against 
using that word? If you will obey me and remain 
quiet, I shall tell you all, otherwise, I shall vanish 
and leave your disobedient mind in darkness. Make 
your choice, Sir.” 

“ You have me at your mercy; I must surrender,” 
I smiled. 

“ At last ! ” She clapped her hands. “ This is 
indeed a victory. How listen. 

“ When Toby and two of your guardsmen carried 
you here from the hall below, the little man at once 
went to take care of that — that hateful beast, Lord 
Cadwaller. Toby took him to his room, locked the 
door and put the key in his pocket. Then he returned 
to his master, whom he made very comfortable. 
After that, he commanded me to repeat a very pretty 
story to all the servants — which I did, word for word, 
at his dictation. The story was, in effect, that the 
Earl of Cadwaller had carried me off at sunrise this 
morning. To be sure, the sun had not risen when I 
told them of my departure, but they were made fully 
to understand.” 

“ But what ? ” I puzzled. 

“ Halt, Sir ! Hot another move ! ” She glanced 
threateningly toward the door — and my head sank 
back upon the pillow. 


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“ Then Toby ordered me to bed, and I obeyed with 
a meekness surprising. His order was that I should 
not leave my room until he should give me permis- 
sion. Some hours after I retired I was awakened 
by a tramping of feet beneath my window, and this 
was immediately followed by a vast lot of talking in 
rough voices. Men then entered the house, came up 
stairs, slammed doors, swore, and finally departed. 

About half an hour after this I heard them mount 
and ride off. I waited in an agony of suspense until 
Toby at last came to my door and told me all danger 
was past for the present.” 

“ Yes, yes ! — and who are they ? ” 

“ Servants of his Lordship who lay bound and 
gagged in his room.” She laughed softly. “ You 
may well be proud of your little Toby, for never be- 
fore were master and man so well suited.” 

“ But the coach and coachman ? Did not Cad- 
waller’s servant come with the others ? And did he 
not seek the coach ? ” 

“ Dear, dear! you do Toby scant justice. The 
coach was driven through the gateway, tha,t the tracks 
might be seen turning into the road ; from there it 
was driven some miles and re-entered the park by the 
rear gate ; the horses were .tied in an unfrequented 
place among the trees — and lo, all traces of my Lord 
had disappeared.” 

“ Except the coachman.” 

“ Excepting the coachman, whom Toby at once 

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treated as he had already treated the Earl. Yes, yes, 
you may well be proud of Toby; he is a little 
genius ! ” She clapped her hands and laughed like a 
child. 

“ And Cadwaller ? ” I asked. 

“ His gag and bonds have been removed, but he re- 
mains locked in his room, swearing profusely, but 
quite harmless. Oh, I have an interesting house- 
hold ! ” 

There was a pause for some time, as I formed the 
question I was about to ask. “ And your father ? ” I 
said presently. 

A shadow passed over her face, and she raised her 
eyes and looked steadily at the wall while she an- 
swered. “ Yes, I know. Poor old father! For 
years he has dreaded such an end. A few months 
ago he had one of those terrible strokes, and he said 
then that he could not survive another. Believe me, 
Sir, I feel sorrow for his death, for he was my father, 
with all his failings. I do not think he ever loved 
me, but he was very proud, and wished to see me in a 
high position. He never rightly understood me, and 
his harshness was due to the fact that he considered 
me regardless of his wishes and perverse in my ideals. 
I could not help it. I am as I was born ; neither 
better nor worse. It is not my fault that I hate 
courts, pomp and all that so many think the crown of 
all ambition. T know I have many faults; but 
surely I am not wrong in everything. My poor 

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father mistook my failings for deliberate attacks 
upon his judgment.” She shook her head sadly. 
iC I know my faults, hut I am as I was made, and no 
power in the world — not even if it took my life — 
could ever have forced me to gratify his wish con- 
cerning Lord Cadwaller.” Her eyes slowly filled 
with tears. “ He died before his dearest wish was 
defeated. Though I feel sorrow for his death, and 
though it may be unnatural in me to say so, I be- 
lieve it is better so — God forgive me if I am to 
blame ! ” She turned her face from me, and her 
body shook with a suppressed sobbing. 

I said nothing, but lay still, watching the beauti- 
ful, bent form. She was right. She was real. 
Here was no senseless affectation such as one might 
expect from even a fairly honest person in the same 
circumstances. I had noted her father’s shameless 
harsh treatment of his noble daughter before stran- 
gers, and doubted not that it was even more unkind 
when they were alone. Her plain outspokenness 
was unusual, doubtless, but to me it was incompar- 
ably more commandable than false demonstrations 
of a regret that could not be felt. Under the cir- 
cumstances, a heartbroken sorrow would have been 
mere idle show — the conventionality of a weaker 
soul. Doubtless she knew nothing of Sir Alfred’s 
sudden turning from Cadwaller, when he had been 
made aware of the degradation the latter had planned 
for him. But this could have no decided effect upon 

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Sir Alfred’s character. His sudden hatred for the 
Earl was caused, not by any feeling of affection for 
his daughter, but by the insult offered to his pride. 

Presently she looked up, wiping her eyes. “ I 
have confessed to you, Sir ; now tell me if I am very 
wicked.” 

My voice shook a little as I answered. “ You are 
the only honest woman I ever have met. Your feel- 
ings are, under the circumstances, perfectly natural, 
and far more commendable than the display of an 
overwhelming sorrow that you could not sincerely 
feel. But I may tell you, for the purpose of re- 
moving your regret that you may have for the ne- 
cessity of disobeying your parent’s command, that 
your father denounced Cadwaller for the villain he 
is, and with almost his last breath prayed me to save 
you from him.” 

“ Did he ? Did he ? ” Her eyes opened wide 
with glad surprise. 

“ He did, when I made clear to him the scoun- 
drel’s object, which would cast disgrace upon him- 
self.” 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, then added : “ But it gives me 
relief to know that his curse rests not upon me, with* 
out regard to what was the reason for his sudden; 
change.” Her face and neck were covered with 
blushes, and she rose and went to the window to 
hide the evidences of conflicting emotions. 


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I kept silence for some time, watching her stand- 
ing in the sunlight and sorrowfully gazing forth. 

“ Alone,” I murmured. “ Alone in the world. 
Alone in a cage of savage beasts, who lick their 
slavering chops and, over-gorged, turned from half- 
eaten prey to coax their appetites with a new and 
sweeter victim. Oh, God ! ” I groaned within my 
heart, “ what can I do to save her ? Cadwaller is 
but one, and she shall he unprotected from others of 
his kind when I am gone. When I am gone ! ” 
The thought caused a pang of sorrow. “ But not 
yet,” I whispered. “ Much is left to he ac- 
complished — much ! ” The seriousness of the situ- 
ation came back to me with a startling force. 
“ Zounds ! and here I lie while the precious moments 
hasten past. Her peril is greater than ever! The 
devil take this stiffened side! I must be moving! 
Ease and contentment are robbing me of my per- 
severance, my determination ! ” 

“ Madam,” I said aloud, “ have you any blood re- 
lation near at hand ? ” 

She turned quickly, catching her breath in sur- 
prise at my abruptness. 

“ Oh, yes ! I have an aunt in Canterbury.” She 
looked at me strangely and drew nearer. “ Why ? ” 
she asked quietly. 

“ Your father’s or your mother’s sister ? ” 

“ My mother’s. But why do you ask ? ” Her 
eyes were anxious, and she came yet nearer, doubt- 

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less wondering at the sudden look of resolved action 
in my face. 

“ Is her husband living ? ” I went on. 

“ Yes, yes ! But why are you so excited ? You 
must be calm.” 

“ Your aunt and her husband must be sent for at 
once — or better, you should go to them.” 

“ But you ? — and my father ? ” 

“ Ah true ! I forgot your father. Still, if you 
have time, you must go.” 

u Have time ? What do you mean ? Pray be 
calm ! ” She looked at me closely, evidently think- 
ing my mind wandering. 

“ Calm ! I am calm ! But you must leave this 
place as soon as possible. What time were they 
here?” 

“ Who ? ” 

“ Cadwaller’s men ! ” 

“ About seven this morning. But please do not 
excite yourself.” 

“ Excite myself ! My dear lady, Toby must be a 
fool ! Seven o’clock, you say ? And now it is near 
to six in the afternoon! They have had almost 
eleven hours ! We may expect them at any mo- 
ment ! ” 

She wrung her hands perplexedly. “ You, you 
must lie down and be more calm— you really must ! 

“ Hay, Madam, I must now move more quickly 
than ever before. Too much good time already has 

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been wasted ! You must be in Canterbury this 
night, and I must be in Dover ! ” 

“ Oh, Sir, Sir ! you must be more restful. What 
you say is impossible, impossible ! ” She looked at 
me steadily, her expression slowly changing.” How 
forgetful in me ! ” she cried. “ You have had nothing 
to eat! ? Tis shameful so to drive you mad with 
hunger makes you so disobedient.” She shook a 
promise me that you will be good, very good, and I 
sha,ll fetch you your breakfast. Poor man ! ’tis 
hunger makes you so disobedient.” She shook a 
finger at me in mock severity. “ Promise that you 
will be good, and not attempt to rise.” 

I could not help smiling, despite the danger that 
I scented fast approaching. “ And will my reward 
be obedience from you after ? ” 

Her eyes opened wide with surprise. 

“ Will you obey me and go to Canterbury ? ”' 

I thought I saw a shadow pass over her face ; and 
I wondered at it. If it did pass, it was gone in a 
moment, for she laughed almost immediately. 

“ Yes, I promise — after. But your present re- 
ward will be breakfast — a delicious breakfast.” 
She shut her eyes and shook her head. “ Oh, 
it will be very, very nice ! ” She bowed her 
head and watched me from under her raised 
brow. “ You never have eaten a meal of my 
preparing. Oh, they are delicious ! ” She joined 
my laughter ? and skipped to the door. “ I hope I 

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have sharpened your appetite sufficiently,” she 
laughed as she passed out. 

“ You have made me ravenous ! You are a 
witch ! ” I cried. 

She put her lovely laughing face hack into the 
room for a moment. “ Now, remember : good, good, 
good ! ” And, frowning in mock severity, and shak- 
ing her finger at each repetition, she vanished. 

“ Oh,” I heard her say in the passage, “ you are in 
good time, Toby; your master is awake, and wants 
you, I think. See to it, Toby, that he breaks not 
my orders, which are that he shall not move from 
where he lies.” 

Toby’s reply came to me as an indistinct rumble, 
and a moment later his rap came at the door 

“ Come in, Toby ! ” I called. 

He was covered with dust from head to foot, his 
face red from exertion, his habitual frown deeper 
than usual, and he pulled at his mustaches almost 
savagely. 

’Twas my intention to give him a sharp lecture 
for permitting me to sleep away hours of most vital 
importance, hut his troubled look checked me, and I 
said only: “ Yes?” 

“ Escaped, Sir — Cadwaller’s coachman,” he jerked 
out abruptly. 

“ Ah ! ” With a great effort I sprang upright. 

“ Almost five hours since. Followed him to 
Canterbury — was half-an-hour behind him. Took 

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the Dover road — I followed. Too late; he had en- 
tered the town fifteen minutes before I reached the 
outskirts.” 

“ The devil ! How do you know ? ” 

“ Asked at an inn he had passed a mile this side 
of the town.” 

“ Quick, Toby — help me to dress ! ” 

“ But your wound, Sir ! ” 

“ The devil take me and my wound, if Mistress 
Heron does not reach Canterbury in safety! And 
I shall see the King this night if I have to crawl! 
Haste! Have no fear of hurting me; I deserve 
it.” 

My whole left side was stiff and sore, my shoulder 
and hip were severely bruised, and the cut over my 
ribs was feverish and pained sharply with my every 
move. My head swam lightly as I put my feet to 
the floor, and my knees shook treacherously when my 
weight came upon my legs. ’Twas no new experience 
to me ; I well knew the symptoms, and made no doubt 
that they soon would become less annoying when I 
should move around more. Once or twice I came 
near falling, but Toby’s arm was ready. He gave 
me a glass of wine now and again, and I felt my 
strength revive. 

“ Friends there, Sir?” Toby asked abruptly, 
as he slowly worked me into my coat, from which 
the blood had neatly been removed, and the gash 
stitched until it was scarcely visible. 

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“Yes, Toby; an aunt. We must take Mistress 
Heron there, then I shall see the King, and arrange 
matters so as to free her from further persecution. 
See — her work.” I pointed to the mended rent. 
“ All kindness. How many ladies of her standing 
would give so much as a thought to a poor devil with 
a gash in his ribs? There, Toby, is a real woman. 
Those that we have been sneering at for years are 
counterfeits. The quality is not In them. You re- 
member our compact, my friend? She must be 
saved. She must reach Canterbury in safety, 
Toby.” I griped his arm and stared fiercely at him. 

He returned my look strangely, his brows wrinkled 
in trouble. “ Yes, Sir ; or fight it out here.” His 
jaws closed tightly, and I should swear his hand 
shook as he lifted my boot and drew it on. 

When Toby’s hand shook the chance of success 
was one in a thousand, I knew. My heart almost 
stopped as I thought of what the result would be 
should Cadwaller’s friends return before we could 
leave, or if they should meet us on the road. The 
road to Canterbury is the road from Hover. Well 
might Toby’s hand shake; — our chance of success 
was indeed but one in a thousand. 

This new excitement — the escape of Cadwaller’s 
coachman — had driven from my mind all thought of 
the daring scoundrel of the night before, the knave 
to whom I owed my disability. But every detail 
of the foul attempt at assassination came to me in a 

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flash, when Toby placed my sword-belt upon my 
shoulder. The hilt of my weapon was bent a little 
where I had fallen upon it. 

“ Ah ! did you get him ? ” I asked with a sud- 
denness and force that made Toby start back in sur- 
prise and stare in wonder. 

“ The coachman, Sir ? ” 

“ No, no, no ! The knave of last night — the man 
in black, w T ith whom I fell from the window ! ” 

“ Oh ! No, Sir, I didn’t get him. I missed 
•him with the pistol, and though I followed amongst 
the trees for some time, ’twas so dark I lost him.” 

“ Had he aught to do with the escape of the coach- 
man ? ” 

“ I think not, Sir. I think he was in another 
place when the coachman escaped.” 

“ Then you have an idea who he is ? ” 

“ Only an idea, Sir ; but I think we both have seen 
him before.” 

I pulled my mustaches thoughtfully, while Toby 
drew on my other boot. “ Yes, Toby, I agree with 
you. I believe we have seen him before. And if I 
mistake not, we shall see him again. And yet, I 
have no reason for my belief that he is the man.” 

Toby looked up quickly and eyed me in half sur- 
prise. “ I think I understand Ihis reason, Sir.” 
He nodded knowingly. 

“ Yes?” 


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“ Yes, Sir ; but, pardon me, Sir, I shall not tell 
it just now.” 

“ Oh, you are growing very deep, Toby,” I said 
dryly, for his words intimated a suspicion that I 
also had of the masqued man’s reason for the at- 
tempted assassination. 

“ Is Cadwaller safe ? ” I questioned, rising pain- 
fully, and, with my hand upon Toby’s shoulder, 
moving toward the door. 

“ Yes, Sir. I left a man on guard before his 
door, and one beneath his window, when I started in 
pursuit of the coachman. 

“ Ah, that is well, Toby. You learned caution 
after the other had escaped.” 

“ Yes, Sir.” His face was flushed, but he was not 
one to shirk responsibility. 

As we left the room I heard the rattle of dishes 
in the hall below. 

“ Quick, Toby,” I whispered ; “ give orders to 
have the coach made ready at once ; then eat, for you 
must be weary. When the coach is ready, let me 
know at once. Have it to stand in some convenient 
spot, not visible from the drives, house or stables. 
Kelieve the guardsmen of their duty, and have them 
mounted and ready by the coach.” 

“ Yes, Sir.” He turned and sped along the hall 
toward the back stairs. 

I made a great effort and, straightening myself as 


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4 


much as possible, stepped firmly in the direction of 
the approaching rattle of dishes. 

“ Don’t be alarmed,” I called, as I neared the head 
of the stairs. “ I am not a ghost.” 

“ Oh ! ” I heard her cry ; — and the next moment 
I stood before her, smiling down into her wondering 
face. 

“ I didn’t promise,” I pleaded, as I saw that she 
was about to speak. 

“ But you gave me to understand that you would 
obey.” 

“You must forgive me. I was forced to use 
diplomacy to gain my end; there was no time for 
elaborate argument.” 

“In the morning-room,” she directed, turning 
to the staring servant that carried the tray. 

“ I shall postpone your lecture, you wicked man, 
until your strength shall have become sufficient to 
bear it.” 

I laughed, and grasped the balustrade for support, 
for my legs were attempting to play me false. But 
she saw I was acting, for she took my arm, despite 
my protests, and steadied my trembling steps. 

“ ’Tis a shame, a sorry shame, to so tempt death,” 
she reproved. 

“ On the contrary, I am doing my utmost to avoid 
it. ’Tis from death I would save myself, and from 
worse I would save you. Bo you not know that 
Cadwaller’s coachman has escaped ? ” 


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4 


“ Escaped !— No !— When 1 ” 

“ Hours since. He has gone to Dover. Cad- 
waller’s friends that were here this morning, al- 
though they would have returned without the warn- 
ing, when they discovered that they had been duped, 
will now be upon us the sooner ! ” 

“ But what shall you do ? ” 

We entered the breakfast-room, and I sank into a; 
chair at the table. “ We leave for Canterbury the 
moment the coach shall be ready.” 

“ But you are not able to travel ! ” 

I laughed. “ I’m worth a dozen dead men, 
Madam ; and when I shall have finished with this re- 
past — Zooks ! I shall be worth at least one quick one. 
Pardon my unseemly haste, but every moment is 
precious.” 

She sat sipping her wine and nibbling a piece of 
cake, her large unfathomable eyes watching me with 
a strange unreadable expression. 

“ And if they come before we leave ? ” she asked. 

“ I have given orders to have the coach hidden 
amongst the trees. ’Tis possible we may reach it un- 
observed; — if not ” 

“ If not?” 

“ Why, then, we must fight it out. I have Toby 
and the three guardsmen — one of whom is wounded, 
to be sure — but even he has a sound sword- 
arm.” 

“ You fight ! ” She put down her glass and stared 

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* 


at me in wonder. “ Sir, Sir ! — you can scarce lift 
your wine-glass! ’Twould cost your life to strike 
a blow ! No, no, I will not permit it ! I am tbe 
cause of your present suffering. I have been very 
selfish in permitting you to expose yourself to such 
great dangers already. I shall go to the King and 
demand honourable treatment. Thank God there 
is still a Parliament in the land, and King Charles 
cannot so soon have forgotten the fate of his lawless 
father ! ” 

Zounds ! she made a splendid and heart-thrilling 
picture, with her beautiful head held high, her red 
lips firm, and her dark eyes emitting sparks of noble 
courage and resolve. 

I smiled and shook my head. “ Your object 
would be to save me, but you could not succeed. 
Noble lady,” I said, leaning forward and speaking 
very low, “ I thank you much, oh, so much more 
than I ever can tell you, for your sweet generosity 
and tender kindness!” (She dropped her eyes, 
and the blushes came and went, in little, rosy waves. ) 
“ Last night you displayed a courage greater far 
than ever woman has shown before. You saved my 
life. And shall I fail now in the task that I had 
determined to accomplish even before you made me 
a hundred times your debtor? — No; or if I do, my 
ears then shall be deafened to the tale of shame. 
You shall escape Cadwaller, — and to-night I shall 
see the King.” 


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“ But why should I not succeed ? ” she flashed, 
raising her determined face. 

“ Even then I should he compelled to fight if they 
should come.” 

The colour left her face. “ And how will you 
see the King ? ” she almost whispered, leaning for- 
ward. 

“ I shall go to him at Dover, and have a quiet talk 
with his Majesty.” 

“ Yes. And what, think you, will he your recep- 
tion if he knows of your treatment of his puppet 
above-stairs ? Remember also that you have dis- 
obeyed his order to go to London.” 

“ I have a very persuasive way of talking, which 
I shall bring to bear upon his Majesty.” 

“ No, you shall not. It is my duty to see the 
King, demand justice, and I will receive it! ” 

I shook my head. “ Such a course would ruin 
all. Last night you said you trusted in me. Will 
you not trust still? Your greatest trial is at hand. 
Permit me to guide you through.” 

She buried her face in her hands and sat 
silent. 

I heard Toby’s step hastening along the hall. He 
rapped and entered, still wiping his mustaches. 
His belt was filled with pistols. “ All ready, 
Sir.” 

1 “ May we succeed,” I said solemnly, standing with 

raised glass. 


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The lady followed my example. 

“ One moment/’ she said, gliding from the 
room. 

I went to the window, swung it open and looked 
forth. ’Twas very quiet amongst the trees, and the 
long shadow cast from the house stretched lazily 
dowm the three terraces to where the circling drives 
join and wind toward the gate — the gate that Julius 
kept. A chill ran through me as the name cajne to 
my mind. “ Julius, the fiend that haunts my sleep,” 
I muttered. “ Julius, whose very name conjures up 
evil.” My side burned and throbbed warningly, 
and I shuddered as I half closed the window. 

“ Hark ! Toby, what is that ? ” 

The little man sprang to my side, his hand at his 
ear. I held my breath and listened. The beating 
of horses’ hoofs upon a hard road came faintly roll- 
ing through the trees. The sound quickly grew in 
volume — the beasts were rushing on at their great- 
est speed. 

“ How many, Toby ? ” 

“ Only four or five, Sir, I think.” 

Mistress Heron reentered, ready for the road. 
“ What is it?” she cried. 

“ They are here, Madam. There, they are slack- 
ening speed as they approach the gate.” 

“ By the rear entrance, Sir ? ” Toby asked. 

I nodded, seized my hat, and held the door while 
the lady proudly passed out. 


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“ Ha ! ” I muttered, “ no fear there. I believe 
she would rather fight than flee ! ” But my heart 
beat quickly as I followed her. 

“ Julius, Julius, Julius !” rang in my ears as a 
warning. 


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CHAPTER XVI. 


Toby attempted to take my arm, but I motioned 
him off. My legs still felt unreliable, and I wished 
by use to prepare them for an emergency. The lit- 
tle man then rushed ahead, and, crossing the main 
hall, opened a door and ran down a passage leading 
to a rear entrance. We followed briskly, though 
my teeth were clenched with the pain of my 
wounded side. With every step it caught me and 
made my breath come short. The lady watched me 
anxiously, as though she thought to see me fall. 
Therefore I stepped the firmer, and put on as much 
swing as my stiffness would permit. 

A sudden beating of hoofs trembled through the 
house. I gasped in surprise and sprang forward. 

“ Quick, Toby ! They must have passed the 
gates ! How came they so soon ? ” 

“ Too late, I fear,” said Mistress Heron, as Toby 
reached the door. 

The clatter rushed quickly on, coming with a dis- 
tinctness surprising. Toby swung the door open, 
ground his teeth, and slammed it shut again. 
“ Trapped! ” he growled, and shot the bolt. 

“ How?” 

“ Another band coming up the rear drive ! 
They’re almost here ! ” 


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“ Ah ! I thought it too soon for the others. How 
many are without ? ” 

“ Four, Sir, I counted. There, they are in the 
court-yard.” 

“ Only four ? Come, unholt ! ” 

“ Hark ! ” said the lady. She was leaning against 
the wall, her fingers held to her chin, her lips apart, 
keenly listening. 

Toby paused, his hand upon the bolt. Another 
clatter of hoofs, less distinct than the first, came to 
us down the hall. 

“ Ah, the others ! Haste ! ” 

“ Ho ! ” cried the lady, very white, but with 
sparkling eyes. 

I loosened my sword, but still hesitated, for in her 
face was a look of almost hope. “ Yes ? ” I ques- 
tioned, while the beating hoofs rushed nearer, and 
loud voices from the court-yard. 

“ I have a plan ! It may work ! Oh, for the 
night! Follow me!” she jerked out sharply, and 
started back toward the great hall. 

Toby looked inquiringly at me. I nodded. We 
turned and followed, wondering. 

The sound of rushing horses suddenly ceased; 
then came a knocking at the main door. 

“ Worse than we expected, eh, Toby ? ” I whis- 
pered. “ Now we must fight it out alone. Our 
guardsmen are useless.” 

Haste ! ” called Mistress Heron, beckoning from 

V9 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


half way up the passage, where she stood beside a 
narrow door. “ I shall lead the way. ’Tis dark. 
Follow, and make no noise.” 

She swung the door open and disappeared in the 
darkness. Toby and I followed softly. As I 
turned to close the door a great bustle and clamour- 
ing of voices came to me from the great hall. I 
searched for a bolt or bar, while the shouts and run- 
ning grew louder, but found neither. 

“ Come,” our fair guide whispered from the 
blackness below. “ This way. Haste ! ” 

“ But the door ! There is no bolt.” 

“ Oh, the key, the key ! Here, Toby, here ! ” 

The door from the main hall to the passage flew 
open, and some one dashed along the passage. I 
heard him draw back the bolt, and a moment later 
he was shouting to his comrades in the court-yard. 
Toby passed a ring of keys to me, that of the door 
singled out ; but as I was trying to insert it the fel- 
low returned, and with him was another. I held 
my breath and listened, fearing to put key to lock 
lest they should hear the rattle. Directly before the 
door they halted. 

“ What does he say ? ” asked one, as a fellow with- 
out shouted something that I could not catch. 

“ What ? ” bellowed the second speaker, starting 
back toward the door. 

“ Sammy says the coach is gone,” came from the 
court-yard. 


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“ The devil ! ” They hastily went back, and an- 
other fellow rushed down the passage from the main 
hall, shouting after them. 

“ There’s only the dead man in one of the rooms ! 
Not a sight of our master ! ” 

I took advantage of the uproar by inserting and 
turning the key. 

“ Someone opened this door as we came up the 
road. I saw him,” said one. 

“ Was it a man ? ” 

“ Yes, a man. I saw him plain. Yes, he was a 
little devil. His head didn’t come above here on 
the door. And he wore hair on his face. I saw him 
plain.” 

“ That’s him ! That’s him ! ” cried another. 
“ That’s the little curse that tied me up and near 
smothered me!” (Toby’s sins were finding him 
out. ) “ Come on, let’s find them. They must be 

in the house.” 

“ But the coach is gone — his Lordship’s coach.” 

“ So it was before,” said a rougher voice. “ They 
can’t fool us that way again. Come along.” 

“ What’s that ? ” 

A great pounding rolled through the house. 
Where we were it came faintly, but its vigour, which 
carried it so far, could not be mistaken. Thump, 
thump, thump ! it came. Then I heard a great 
shouting in the distance, and this was followed by 
a rush and answering shouts from the men, until the 

281 


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* 


whole house was made to echo with sounds as of mad 
creatures let loose. 

“ Ah, his Lordship is attracting attention,” I 
said, groping my way dowrn the steps. 

“ I should have finished him last night,” Toby 
growled. “ When you throw away a trick you often 
lose the game. 

“ But sometimes get a better suit.” 

“ This way,” came from our leader. 

We followed her whispered directions, feeling 
along the wall to guide us. My hand brushed across 
three doors, and then a soft “ Here ” came through 
the darkness, and the fourth door opened gently. 
My hand slid along, found the casing, and I followed 
Toby into a darkness thicker, if that was possible, 
than that of the passage along which we had been 
groping. 

“ Wait here,” the lady said, closing the door and 
moving farther into the darkness. A clink of glass 
came to me a moment later, and I heard her moving 
about, her hands feeling here and there, as though 
searching for something upon the table. 

Crash, crash, crash! came from far above, — and 
I knew that the Earl was attaining his liberty. 
Click, click, click ! came from a few yards distant, — 
and I knew for what Mistress Heron had sought. I 
moved toward her when I saw the flash, and a mo- 
inent later held a lighted candle, while she put down 


282 


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the flint and steel, and, taking the ring of keys, 
crossed to the door and locked it. 

“ Now,” she said, standing straight, her back 
against the panel, an odd smile of half-excitement, 
half-triumph upon her face ; “ now we still have a 
chance.” 

I stood gazing at her in admiration — Zounds! 
she commanded it — and Toby leaned against the 
wall, twisting his mustaches and watching her from 
under his shaggy brows with eyes that twinkled 
merrily. 

“ I believe this is more to your liking than to 
flee, Madam,” I smiled. 

“ The pugnacious spirit is contagious, Sir,” she 
laughed back. “ I have caught it.” 

The crashing above-stairs suddenly ceased, then 
silence reigned for a moment, but it was followed in 
turn by a loud and angry shouting, which, I made 
no doubt, was well punctuated with oaths. A sud- 
den running down the stairs followed. Many feet 
made the sounds, and they came with a rush that 
left no doubt of their determination to secure their 
prey — a pack of fierce staghounds chasing a tender 
fawn. The trapping of feet and shouting came 
nearer. As they reached the ground floor I could 
plainly distinguish the voice of his Lordship cursing 
most foully and calling out orders for our appre- 
hension. 

“ Out, out, you silly fools ! Surround the house ! 

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While you stand staring, they, doubtless, are 
making off! Two men to each gate, you block- 
heads ! Yes, mounted, of course ! Haste ! they 
may have left the grounds already! Fire a pistol if 
you sight them ! ” More rushing of feet followed 
this outburst, and presently came a galloping of 
horses, as the men hastened to carry out their mas- 
ter’s directions. 

I began to cast about for something with which to 
make ourselves more secure, for, remember, there 
were but two doors between our foes and us, and 
stout ones though they were, locks can easily be pis- 
toled, as I already have shown, and the keep of a 
bolt can be forced. This search for reenforcements 
brought the strangeness of the room under my no- 
tice. It was fairly large, almost square, and wains- 
coted in oak to a height of about six feet, and above 
this was another five or six feet to the floor of the 
room across which Cadwaller strode and stormed. 
But the strange part was its contents. A large and 
heavy table stood in the centre, and upon this were 
many tubes and globes of glass, a little brass kettle 
and a mortar with pestle. In the wall was the 
common fireplace, but beside it, upon a higher piece 
of stonework, was a second one, very small — “ a 
young one,” as Toby said — with a hood-shaped 
piece from the main chimney projecting over it. In 
neither of these did a fire burn, and the ashes upon 
the hearth were old and cold. Here and there along 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


the walls were shelves upon which stood many bot- 
tles, each having a name stuck to it, and one shelf 
there was that held books, mostly large and well 
thumbed. Scattered in disorder about the room 
were pots and other utensils, strange-shaped and of 
various sizes, and at one end of the table a stool — 
the only seat that the room contained. 

“ Ah, an alchemist ! ” I hinted, forgetting how 
distinct Cadwaller’s voice had sounded. 

“ Sh ! ” the lady warned, looking up. 

A conversation was progressing above-stairs, but 
not within the room directly overhead. “Ha! 
When ? ” cried the Earl. The other’s answer came 
as a murmur. “ That is well ! That is well ! 
Then they must still be within the house ! Go fetch 
me a servant — the first you find ! ” Steps started 
quickly, and soon died out in the distance, as the 
man hastened toward the other wing. 

“ Do the servants know of this place \ ” I whis- 
pered. 

She thought a moment. “ Yes, they must know 
of it, but none has ever been within — at least, none 
but Julius.” 

“ Hone but Julius ! ” Again that hated name 
rang menacingly in my ears. 

“ He has assisted my father here sometimes. 
Julius is the only one now, besides myself, that 
knows its secret.” 

“ Its secret ? ” 


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♦ 


“ Yes.” She smiled and nodded knowingly. 

“ And can Julius hold a secret fast? ” 

“ To the death.” 

“ I should prefer that he now held it in death,” I 
muttered. 

“ But if the doors are not fastened, may not the 
other servants know also ? ” 

“ The doors always are locked, Sir.” She still 
was smiling. 

“ Always ? ” I questioned, knowing that she had 
Hot used her keys to open either but a moment before. 

“ Last night I took my poor father’s keys and 
came down here for a balm for the wound of a poor 
gentleman that had come near to death in saving my 
life. I was sore wrought, and so forgot to lock the 
doors again.” 

“ And you came alone ? ” I said, very low. 
“ Brave heart ! ” came to my lips, but I smothered 
the words lest she should think them over-bold. 

“ I — I was a little, only a little, afraid. I 
thought I heard a noise behind the wall, there, 
when I entered. I suppose it was the result of that 
awful excitement in the hall. But whatever it was, 
imagination or not, I did not take time to relock the 
door.” 

My throat ached fiercely. “ Here is a woman ! 
Here is a woman ! ” I stifled within me. “ After 
having gone through what she went through last 
night — if another woman lives that would go 

286 


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* 

through it — there is not a woman in a million that 
would come to this place alone, when an unknown 
assassin was lurking still about the house.” I 
clenched my fists, stared at the floor, and my breath 
came heavily through my nose. 

“ A noise behind the wall ? Which wall, Mad- 
am ? ” I whispered. 

She seemed surprised by the question. “ That 
wall.” She indicated the one to her left. 

“ Ah ! ” I tiptoed to it and placed my ear against , 
the panels. “ Is there a room beyond ? ” 

“ No, — not a room. Why ? ” 

“ Then I, too, must have been deceived.” 

“ Deceived ! Did you hear a sound ? ” , She flew 
to my side and placed her ear where I had held 
mine. “ Oh, no ! there could be no one there. What 
you heard must have come from above-stairs.” 

“ Surely — since there is nothing beyond the wall,” 
I assented. 

“ But there is.” She was frowning thoughtfully. 

“ A chamber?” 

“ No ; a passage. 

“ Ah, that is the secret ! ” 

“ Yes. But there could be no one there.” 

“ Yet Julius knows.” Once again my jaws 
clenched in sudden anger at the name. 

“ Poor Julius ! You think he is capable of any 
villainy. Do you remember the morning when you 
compared him with his namesake, the fish ? ” 

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“ I remember,” I whispered, looking at the floor. 

“ Even then you were sadly prejudiced. Ke- 
member ? ” 

“ Always ! ” 

Toby was inspecting the bottles upon the shelves 
at the other side of the room; Odwaller, above, was 
questioning the servants severely, for now and again 
his voice raised very high would come to us; and a 
banging of doors and a tramping of feet came indis- 
tinctly from the second floor, where his Lordship’s 
men had commenced their systematic search, room 
by room, from garret to cellar. 

“ And you have not changed ? ” 

“ Changed ! ” I gasped. 

“ Yes. You still hold to your prejudice ? ” Her 
eyes had an unreadable laughing expression. 

“ Oh ! ” I sighed, reassured and disappointed. 
“ Yes, I still believe he is a fiend — yea, further, I 
am convinced.” 

I saw Toby turn and cast a hasty glance at 
me. 

“ And yesterday you were about to slay me, after 
having beaten the poor creature almost to death. 
How murderous you did look when you turned, with 
that great sword drawn back to run through poor 
little me ! ” Her eyes were sparkling temptingly, 
and her dark red lips twitched with a tantalizing 
smile. 

I leaned against the wall and trembled, a strange 

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wild tingling rushing through my veins, twitching 
my fingers and dancing in my heart. 

“ And again you would have killed him, when as 
a spectator he peered over the hedge, watching you 
fight Lord Cadwaller. And all this hatred because 
the poor fellow is attempting to do what he con- 
siders his duty! To him you are a very wicked 
man, who came, hacked by a band of the King’s 
soldiers, to carry me off. Oh, you forget what a 
wicked man you were when you came, scarcely two 
weeks ago! And now you expect him to betray 
me!” She shook her head. “ ’Tis his ugly face 
that makes you to hate him so, I fear. Betray me ! 
Why the poor hideous creature almost worships 
me ! ” 

Toby made a sudden movement, but when we 
glanced toward him he still stared at the bottles, his 
back to us. 

“ He is on very intimate terms with Sir Charles, 
Madam.” 

“ Sir Charles Rawley ? ” 

“ He admitted Sir Charles to the grounds last 
night, and the two had a whispered conference be- 
fore the latter left. I think Sir Charles hao more 
to do with the close attention I receive from Julius 
than ha# his duty to you, Madam.” 

“ Oh ! ” she gasped, and was silent for a moment. 
“ So, so ! Another — another puppet ! Did you 
speak with him ? ” 

19 


289 


* Mark Everard * 

“ Ay. Toby took him prisoner, and we discussed 
many things.” 

“ And did you learn aught of his mission ? ” 

“ Ay. He came that he might give orders to his 
men to detain his Lordship as long as possible.” 

Her face flushed darkly, and she hit her lip in 
anger. “ More plotting ! And I am the innocent 
cause of it all! Oh, God! am I but a thing to be 
bought and sold by scheming knaves for their ad- 
vancement ? Am I not a woman, and have I no 
will, that I must he made into a stepping-stone, a 
filthy stepping-stone for honourless beasts to trample 
under muddy feet ? A thing without feeling, 
honour, or soul ? Ah, Sir, you have thought me ig- 
norant of that dog Cadwaller’s plans! I was not. 
I suspected them, though I was uncertain until you 
spoke this day. Oh, Heaven! And here’s another 
puppet, smaller and more contemptible! This is 
the Little Duke’s little dog, I suppose! Oh, oh! it 
is too, too shameful ! Am I nothing — nothing ? 
Why am I singled out for such vile, such unspeak- 
able shame, such torment? Have I no heart, no — 
no love to be considered ? Oh ! what am I saying ? ” 
She broke off abruptly, buried her burning face in 
her hands and shook with a violent sobbing. 

Toby leaned against the great chimney, his brows 
drawn down until his eyes were but points of 
fire burning through a forest of shaggy hair, his 
mouth a grim, straight line, mustaches bristling like 

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* 


a mad dog’s back, and nostrils opening and closing 
like a fish’s gills. I stood burning and freezing 
alternately, my heart leaping and standing still, 
afire and turned to ice. Zounds ! what a woman ! 
No words can do her justice, nor from what she 
said can her look be judged. She was a furnace of 
burning indignation, a goddess of noble beauty 
wronged. At her last words my heart stood still, an 
icy hand clutched it until I groaned, and a cold 
moisture burst out upon my face. “ Have I no 
heart, no love to be considered ? ” she had cried. 
Ah! she loved. Farewell, sweet folly, dear absurd- 
ity ! Mark Everard, the duellist, the adventurer, the 
hireling of princes and kings, would now fall back 
into the pit of reality, which he never should have 
•left. Old Toby was right. Toby was a wise man — 
and a fool. And where was this lover, this god that 
he must be to win the love of such a woman ? Where 
yvas he, that he left her in such straits? The pol- 
troon ! If the outcast Mark Everard had him in his 
hands he would flay him alive for his neglect! If 
the outcast, the poor despised outcast — no, no! — 
ungenerous thought — the honoured, the vastly hon- 
oured, soldier should meet him, he would kiss his 
hand, for he must have a grand soul ere he could win 
such love. “ Oh, God ! ” I choked, and trembled 
against the wall. My side malignantly burned and 
stabbed; my brain giddily throbbed and whirled; 
my ears were deaf, but provokingly rang and whis- 

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tied. ... A warmth that felt suspiciously like a 
fever began to steal through my veins. . . . 

Toby moved. Toby was tiptoeing toward the 
door. Toby held up a hand in warning — and I 
made out a sound in the passage above, a sound as 
of someone carefully making his way along toward 
the little door through which we had passed in com- 
ing to the late Sir Alfred’s secret chamber. At the 
door the cautious steps stopped. I heard someone 
try the lock. Then there was silence for several 
moments, during which time Mistress Heron wiped 
her eyes and regained her self-command. 

“ Ah ! In the cellar, my lady ! ” Twas Lord 
Cadwaller’s voice. “ ’Twas indiscreet to quarrel so 
loudly! But a little while and I shall arbitrate! 
Here ! — a pistol ! ” Two or three others ran from 
the great hall to him. “ ’Tis to be regretted that I 
must so damage my own property,” he called ; “ but 
I must rescue you, Mistress! Stand to one side of 
the door, my lady! I would not have you injured! 
Are you ready ? ” 

I moved quickly to Toby’s side and took a pistol. 
Mistress Heron stood against the wall, gazing 
thoughtfully across the room. Her face was pale 
again, her lips drawn firmly in, and her hands 
clenched at her sides. 

“ One ! ” shouted Cadwaller. “ When I have 
counted three I shall fire ! ” 

I stepped unsteadily to the table. 

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“ One ! — two ! — three ! ” There was a moment’s 
pause — then, crash! I heard a piece of the lock 
come ringing down the steps, and the distant scream 
of a female servant mingled with the explosion’s 
vibrations. 

I leaned over and blew out the candle. 

“ Oh ! ” Mistress Heron gasped. 

“ Yes ! ” I whispered. 

“ In the dark I cannot open the panel to the pas- 
sage.” 

The door above crashed open. “ Oh ! Fetch ne 
a light! ’Tis dark below stairs!” said his Lord- 
ship, 



293 


CHAPTER XVII. 


We had delayed too long ; the secret pa^el still was 
closed, and could not he opened in the darkness ; the 
candle was out; but one door remained between our 
enemy and us ; and beyond the panel I made sure I 
had heard a faint noise as of stealthy moving. Dark- 
ness is usually better for the pursued than for the 
pursuer, but that is when the pursued has an open 
way before him. Close the door to safety, and dark- 
ness will seal it. And place on the other side of the 
sealed door a concealed enemy — for what other 
would have cause for being there — and the pursued 
finds himself in a position for which he never has 
hoped. The part of the hunted was one in which I 
had had but little experience. I liked it not. But 
in this case it was the only course having wisdom on 
its side. Mistress Heron should not be exposed to 
a danger that could be avoided. And this very care* 
that I had exercised to prevent our immediate dis- 
covery was the cause of our greatest danger. I had 
blown out the candle so that Cadwaller should not 
see the light shining through the key-hole, and so dis- 
cover at once in which room we had taken refuge. 
The delay was a more serious matter than you that 
read these lines may on first thought think it. ’Twas 

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* 


necessary to light the candle ere the secret panel 
could be opened ; and if the candle should he lighted 
my Lord would see in which room we were. He 
would break in; we should escape into the passage; 
he then -would know that such a passage existed, and 
from which room it led. You now the more readily 
may forgive me when I tell you that I swore round- 
ly — under my breath — and cursed myself — silent- 
ly — for being such a fool as to neglect to have the 
panel opened and ready for flight at the approach of 
the enemy. 

Cadwaller evidently had no more love for the dark- 
ness than I ; for I heard him call for two more pistols, 
and when the fellow returned with the light, he or- 
dered him and some others to go before and “ shoot 
down the knaves at first sight.” 

I now saw there was nothing left but to light the 
candle and make our exit — and mayhap meet our 
concealed friend in the secret passage. We now had 
thrown away a trick indeed, and there was no chance 
to be seen of making good the loss. 

We could hear the men hesitate and dispute as to 
which should go first, for doubtless they thought it 
certain death for at least two, when they should come 
with a light into a dark place where two desperate 
men were driven to bay. I chuckled when I heard 
them; but Cadwaller seemed not to see the humour 
of the situation, for he burst into a storm of oaths 
and threats. 

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4 


“ Down with yon, cowards ! ’Slife ! a pretty band 
I have about me! Do you fear this braggart more 
than me ? Is his sword mo*© to be feared than my 
displeasure? Down, I say, or two of you shall go to 
hell presently ! ” 

“ Oh, good my Lord, good my Lord ! I’ll go ! 
I’ll go!” 

I heard Toby snort disdainfully. Then hesitat- 
ing feet were heard upon the steps. 

I groped about the table for the steel and flint, 
then paused as my Lord called out : 

“ ’Slife ! have you not found them yet ? Hasten, 
or, by Heaven, I’ll have you whipped to a pulp ! ” 
He still stood in the passage above. The noble Earl 
believed not in the spilling of noble blood — not when 
common red was at hand in plenty. 

“ There’s no one here, my Lord ! ” 

“ What ! Ho one there ! Blind owls, I heard 
them! Search well behind everything! Look be- 
neath the steps ! ” 

A little startled exclamation came from one of the 
men, and then we could hear him poking something 
between the steps, and directing his comrade where to 
hold the candle. 

“ Ho, my Lord, they’re not here. They must have 
escaped, for there are doors leading from the pass- 
age ! ” 

“ Oh, doors! — doors! — Ha! that is better.” He 
quickly ran down the steps as he spoke. “ Try that 
door.” 


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The fellow shook it. “ Locked, my Lord.” 

“ The next.” 

I still was searching for the steel, flint and tinder, 
but it is remarkalble how things can avoid your 
hands, even when you know their position, or within 
a foot or so of it. 

“ Locked, my Lord.” 

“ All locked ! Ha ! they have large apartments. 
The next. And you, keep your eyeis on the others. 
We want no surprise.” 

I found the steel, then the flint, but the tinder-box 
still avoided me. 

“ Locked, my Lord.” 

“ The next. Ah ! this is the last. They are be- 
hind one of these doors. We have them fast.” 

The fellow shook the door of our room. “ Locked, 
my Lord. All locked, may it please your Lord- 
ship.” 

“ What ! May it please me ! May it please the 
devil ! Fool ! go fetch some others.” 

During all this Mistress Heron was feeling softly 
along the wall for the panel; but when the fellow 
shook our door, she stopped. When he left at his 
master’s urgent command, she whispered : “ I cannot 
find it without the light.” 

By this time my temper, which never has been 
of the longest, blazed out. I should swear I had 
searched every square inch of that table, despite 
bottles, tubes, globes, and kettles, but no tinder-box 

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could I find, though before I had blown the candle 
out it lay in plain sight near the corner. So sure 
was I of its position that even in the dark I could 
picture it distinctly — when my anger blazed up. As 
her whisper came to me I saw it clearly. There it 
was, just beyond my nose. I angrily snatched at 
it. . . . Crash. 

“ Ha ! — at last ! ” cried Cadwaller. 

“ Oh ! ” cried the lady. 

Toby cleared his throat. 

I caught a short word between my teeth just in 
time. 

“ One moment, and I shall release you from your 
harsh imprisonment. Is it not strange how the tables 
turn ? ” 

“ And the glasses, my Lord,” I replied, kneeling 
and feeling among the scattered fragments for the 
tinder-box, which I had heard fall when the glass 
was overturned. 

“ You prefer to die laughing? ? Tis commend- 
able.” 

“ I have no mind to oblige you any manner, my 
Lord.” 

“ But I am said to he persistent.” 

“ And cautious. Have a strong dislike for dark 
places.” 

“ Hot for all dark places.” 

“Ho?” 

“ I am partial to dark eyes.” 

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“ And dark knobs upon the forehead ? ” 

Toby chuckled, and came to strike the light. 

“ And red lips.” 

“ Turned grey with chattering fear ? ” 

“ And a soft, white neck, well chiselled, as from 
marble made.” 

“ And well choked by dying fingers ? ” 

Mistress Heron and Toby eyed me in wonder, not 
understanding this last part of the duel of words. 

To Toby I whispered : “ When the panel opens 
draw the table along the floor with as much noise 
as possible.” Then, taking the candle, I moved, 
tottering, to the wall. “ How, Madam,” I whis- 
pered, “ which panel ? ” 

She counted seven ajong the wall, paused and 
placed her fingers upon the moulding. 

“ One moment,” I warned in her ear. “ Which 
way does it go ? ” 

“ From us.” 

“ Upon hinges ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Swinging to the right or left ? ” 

“ To the left.” 

“ Then please stand well to the left, so that you 
will not be before the opening.” 

She hesitated, looking at me in wonder, then faint- 
ly smiled. “ And you ? ” 

I raised my pistol, ready to fire, should there be 


cause. 


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Again she smiled. “ A useless precaution ; there 
is no one there.” 

“ But we may take no chances.” 

She took a step to the left and pressed heavily upon 
the moulding. 

“ Now, Toby.” 

The table with its load of glasses rattled like 
a charge of cavalry. I held the candle as high as 
my wounded side would permit. The panel moved 
softly back, discovering a narrow passage, cold and 
black as a moonless midnight. 

“ Ho, ho ! Preparing a barricade, eh ! Becom- 
ing more serious, my friend! That is well! That 
is well! More in keeping with your circumstances, 
eh!” 

“ And assures my Lord that there will be no sally. 
You feel safer now, eh, my Lord ! ” Toby shouted, 
as I moved into the little passage. 

“ What, what, little rat ? Hast learned croaking 
from your master? Has his wit failed, then, that 
you must take up the cudgels? Or mayhap he has 
fallen into another fainting-fit and hides behind my 
lady’s petticoats ! Which is it, little rat, little rat ? ” 
Surely my Lord was losing dignity. From the rage 
in his voice ’twas evident that Toby’s shot had gone 
home. 

I heard the men rush down the steps. 

“ Ha ! now we shall draw this badger. Beware 
within, Mistress; I’m about to blow up the lock! 

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Tuck your cringing charge well behind you ; he may 
be injured in the rush! Eeady, Mistress, ready! 
Swing high his mighty sword! Gad! we’ll have it 
reproduced before the King ! ” The despicable 
coward was taking a revenge worthy of a fishmonger. 
In his eagerness to mortify the lady and goad me to 
fury he forgot the presence of his men. Faugh! it 
gave one a qualm to he compelled to fight such a 
dog. 

Nothing could I see down the dark passage, so I 
returned to the room to give his Lordship a last 
warning ere they should force the door. For I 
wished to gain all the time possible, as every minute 
that passed sent the sun lower, and darkness without 
would give us our only chance for leaving the 
grounds, should we succeed in leaving the house. 
But as I was re-entering the room, something told 
me to glance over my shoulder into the darkness. I 
did so — and should almost swear I saw, far, far in 
the black distance, a streak of dim light. For but a 
moment it lasted — -then all behind me was thick 
blackness once more. Whether it was the fellow I 
had heard moving before the panel was opened or a 
band coming to cut off all chance of retreat, I could 
not decide. I was inclined to think it the former, 
but sufficient uncertainty to keep my wits sharp still 
was lurking in the cold, black passage. 

“ Again I shall count a warning ! ” shouted Cad- 
waller. “One!” 

19 


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4 


Toby looked at me, raised his pistol, pulled up his 
eyebrows and jerked his head toward the door. A 
strange grim smile was hovering on the lips of the 
little man. 

“ Two!” 

I nodded. Toby sprang quickly to the door, ap- 
plied the muzzle of his pistol to the keyhole and 
waited. 

“ Three ! ” exultingly rang out. But it was 
drowned instantly in a deafening crash, which in 
turn gave place to sounds of scampering feet and 
profanity colossal, mixed in such proportions as to 
make a music to my ears. 

I put the candle upon the table, held my hand to 
my side, and laughed until a sharp stab in my wound 
made me cease. The cut was burning fiercely, which 
gave me a kind of stimulation. Mistress Heron 
looked from Toby to me in wonder — she had not real- 
ised what happened. Toby leaned against the wall 
and quietly reloaded the pistol, the odd smile still 
playing about the corners of his mouth. His act re- 
minded me of the time when, about two weeks before, 
he blew through the keyhole into the eavesdropper’s 
ears. Doubtless Cadwaller knew of that incident. 

(i Does that recall to your mind the night of the 
first of May, my Lord ? ” I questioned. “ ’Tis well 
you held your pistol, and not your ear, to the door, 
was it not, my Lord ? ” 

“ Force the door, cowards ! Is this the way you 

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serve me? — run at a pistol-shot? Force the door! 
I have another pistol, and there shall be one coward 
the less if I raise it ! ” 

“ Contemplating suicide, my Lord ? ” I mocked. 

“ Abide, abide ! Your tongue almost has done 
its wagging! ” 

Mistress Heron moved uneasily, and when I 
glanced at her, her eyes were fixed anxiously on me. 
She nodded toward the secret panel. 

“ One moment, Madam. I must gain time,” I 
whispered. Then to Toby : “ Ahead of Mistress 
Heron into the passage.” 

He hastened across the room, ramming a bullet 
into his pistol as he went. 

The door-knob turned in timid hands, then a, 
shoulder was hurled against the oak. The bolt was 
well fastened, and I knew heavy blows would be 
required to force it. 

“ One moment, my Lord ! ” I shouted. 

“ Ho ! ho ! So our spirits are drooping, Mas- 
ter Bravo, eh ! Force the door ! We have Idm ! 
Ha! ha!” 

Still the men hesitated. 

“ We are two determined men, my Lord ” 

“ But becoming somewhat frightened ! ” 

“ Bah ! my Lord. I belong not to the nobility ! ” 

“ But soon will belong to the devil ! ” 

“ Mayhap. But not before my Lord Cadwaller. 
I shall give you precedence — your due by birth ! ” 

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4 


“ Force the door ; I weary of his prattle ! ” 

Again a weight was hurled against the door. 

“ Again I say, consider, my Lord.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” 

“ We have four pistols, one of which is for your 
Lordship.” 

“ Yes?” 

“ Provided, of course, you do not flee. These 
four pistols mean four dead men.” 

“ Your tongue revives your confidence, my 
man.” 

“ We have our swords .also.” 

“ And a gash in our side. ’ Twill soon be time 
to faint again — danger is at hand.” 

“ Now, my Lord, take your choice. But so sure 
as you enter this room, so sure are you a dead dog — 
the King shall lose a spaniel.” 

“ Oh ! My thanks for the advice. I have more 
men at my disposal. I shall summon them.” Then 
he gave an order to one of his men. I could not catch 
it, but he was sending for the rest of his band, for 
the fellow sprang up the stairs three steps at a 
time. 

I smiled and turned to my lady. She still stood 
against the wall, her white hands hanging clasped be- 
fore her, her face a little pale, lips compressed, and 
her splendid eyes turned to me in trouble. She re- 
turned my smile with a curl of her lip, and came 
toward me. 


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“ The coward ! ” she said quite loud enough for 
my Lord to overhear. 

u Courage, Mistress ; I soon shall give you a 
rescue ! ” 

u Oh ! still without, my watch-dog ? Still nursing 
your wounded paw ? ” 

“ Anon, anon ! I well can afford to wait ; my 
time is coming.” 

“ You believe that every dog has his day ? ” I 
laughed. 

He almost choked with rage as he hurled an oath 
back at me, then began pacing to and fro along the 
passage. 

“ But why do you prompt him to get more men ? ” 

“ That we may gain time. We must have dark- 
ness. And then, Sir Charles may yet arrive in 
time.” 

“ Sir Charles ! But surely you ! ” She 

drew back a step. 

The action stabbed me. I looked at her sadly. 

“ Oh, forgive me ! ” she whispered. “ Whatever 
you do will be right. You can do no wrong.” 

“ Oh, can I not ! I am but little better than the 
worst, believe me; but when I start upon any road 
I pursue it to the end, be it for good or for evil. 
This time it has chanced to be for good, thank God, 
so trust me to the end.” 

<( Oh, spare me ! ” She bowed her head, her face 
and neck flushing rosy. “ You know I trust you. 

20 3 ° 5 


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* 


’Twas the surprise you gave me by mentioning Sir 
Charles Rawley’s name as though he could be re- 
lied upon for help.” Her bosom rose and fell 
quickly, and when she raised her face again her 
eyes were swimming in tears — those tears that from 
the first had gone so to my heart. “ How what of 
Sir Charles ? ” She smiled sadly. 

I cleared my throat. “ If Sir Charles has the 
brains that I think he has, he will know of the hasty 
departure of Cadwaller’s men from Dover. ’Tis 
in the interest of his villainous plans to prevent the 
Earl from overcoming me. ’Tis strange he is so 
slow to move, for these knaves have made two trips 
from Dover. I must take advantage of their oppos- 
ing villainies by pitting them against each other. 
With the victor I then can settle more satisfactorily 
than at present We must use every means that 
offers; and to profit by the quarrels of scoundrels is 
an honest man’s fair duty.” 

“ I — I can never — can never reward you for your 
noble self-sacrifice,” she whispered brokenly. “ See 
what my fate would be if any other had been given 
your place.” 

“ Faith,” I replied, trying to speak lightly, “ you 
might have escaped this trouble completely, but for 
me. Your position could scarcely be worse than it 
now is, Madam.” 

She shook her head, then looked up quickly. “ Do 
you — do you regret undertaking our apprehension ? ” 

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I looked at the floor, grasped the edge of the table 
tightly, and again the strange tingling ran through 
my veins. I thought of what she had said but a lit- 
tle while before, and as the picture of this great man 
that she loved came before my mind’s eye my heart 
turned cold, but I answered honestly. “ No, I never 
can regret it, Madl^i. It has been & great wild 
dream, hut a dream of music — of — of sweet solos, 
duets — and thunderous choruses. Sad it has been, 
too, Madam, — hut wild, wild, wild ! ” At the last 
my voice caught in my throat — I could say not an- 
other word. ... I turned and snuffed the candle. 

A stealthy step came down the stairs. My Lord 
abruptly stopped his raging stride. 

“ Who the devil are you ? ” he burst out. A little 
pause. “ Eh ? What’s that ? ” he added in a lower 
tone. “ Oh, it is you, my fine fellow ! Stop bob- 
bing ! What do you ? ” He broke off. 

The stealthy steps came on agan. Another little 
pause — then whispering and indistinct muttering. 

My heart sank deep as I listened. “ So, so ! ” I 
worried. “ As I thought ! As I thought ! ” 

The lady looked at me in surprise. “ What is it ? ” 
she whispered. 

“ Our chances dwindle, Madam.” 

“ Are they about to force the door ? ” 

“ I think not. I hope they will.” 

“ But why — how do you know this ? You cannot 
hear what they say.” 


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4 


“ No, Madam ; but I think our ears did not de- 
ceive us.” 

She raised her brows inquiringly. 

I nodded toward the passage. “ You heard the 
noise last night. I heard it when I held my ear to 
the panel. Someone was there ; I saw him go out at 
the other end. . . . He is whispering now with my 
Lord Cadwaller.” 

“ Oh ! ” She turned and glanced into the dark 
passage. “ You think we are betrayed ? — that they 
w T ill cut off our escape ? ” 

“ Yes, Madam,” — I was thinking quickly — “ un- 
less you can get into the grounds before they have 
time to cut us off. To where does the passage lead ? ” 

“ It opens into a little cell in the old part of the 
house.” 

“ Is the old part occupied ? ” 

“No, nor has it been for years. The cell opens 
into a little hall, from which stairs lead to a room 
with a glass roof, where my father studied the 
stars.” 

I heard the men come rushing along the passage 
above-stairs. From the number of feet I deemed the 
band complete. 

Still the murmuring on the other side of the door 
went on. It seemed that Cadwaller was questioning 
the other. 

I formed a plan that might succeed if sufficient 
time still was left us. 


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“ From the other end of the passage can yon reach 
the shelter of the trees without discovery ? ” 

“ Yes ; the door is on the far side from the house.” 

“ Then haste — lose not a moment — quick — with 
Toby ! ” I snatched another candle and lighted it 
in the flame of the first. I handed it to her. “ No 
sound until you are in the passage; then go as 
quickly as the light will permit.” 

She gathered up her skirts and tiptoed noiselessly 
past Toby and into the dark passage. 

“ Quick, Toby,” I whispered ; “ follow Mistress 
Heron. Hasten to the coach. Leave the grounds 
quietly. Reach Canterbury in safety, or kill the 
horses in the attempt. I shall keep Cadwaller’s 
men well occupied. Haste ! ” I seized his shoulder 
and pushed him into the passage. 

“ No, Sir,” he growled. “ You may shoot me, but 
I’ll not.” He held his body very erect, but his eyes 
were directed to my feet. 

“ This is true, fellow ? Remember, a lie will cost 
vour life ! ” came to us in Cadwaller’s voice. 

“ What, Toby, — disobedience ? ” 

“ May it be my last offence, Sir, but I can’t help 
it.” There could be no mistaking his determination, 
for his shoulders rose and fell slowly with the deep 
breathing of a brave man’s firm resolve. 

“But do you know what your stubbornness will 
cost ? In a few moments our escape will be cut off. 
That means our absolute failure.” 

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“ Let me stay, Sir. You cannot hold them ; 
you’re staggering and half-dead now, Sir.” 

“ What is it ? ” Mistress Heron asked, turning 
bafck. 

I heard some of the Earl’s men start up the stairs. 

“ Alas, Madam, Toby has outlived his obedience ! 
He refuses to go.” 

Cadwaller rapped against the door. “ Ho ! Mas- 
ter cut-throat, I have changed my mind. I shall not 
waste one of my men’s lives in taking you. I have 
decided to starve you out, so shall now leave you 
while I sup.” 

“ Go to the devil, friend Spaniel ; I’m annoyed ! ” 

He swore, then laughed, after which they all — 
seemingly — went up the little stairs. 

“ What ! Toby disobedient ! Impossible ! ” Her 
eyes were wide in wonder. “ Come, Toby,” she 
whispered gently. 

“ And leave my wounded master to be murdered ? 
Ho, Madam, I wasn’t made on that plan.” 

“ What ! Leave him ! Who said he was to re- 
main ? ” She looked quickly from Toby to me, then 
back to Toby, her dark eyes flashing brightly in the 
candlelight. “ Oh, fie, Sir ! ” she flashed, agaiu 
turning to me. “ Because I am a woman, must I be 
a coward ? Leave you to be murdered ? Hay, Toby, 
you did well to refuse ! If you remain, Sir, then I 
shall remain also ! ” 




Mark Everard 


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* 


I groaned at this fatal delay. Even now the 
enemy might be at the other end. 

“ Lead on, Toby. There now is no cause for me 
to remain; Cadwaller has left the door. We shall 
find them at the other end, I fear.” 

“ Hark ! ” the lady warned, as Toby passed her 
and was starting ahead almost at a run. 

A stealthy, cat-like step was coming down the stairs. 
I hesitated. The cautious steps came slowly to the 
door. Another delay. I felt sure that by this time 
our retreat was cut off. The timid unknown stopped. 
. . . A plan flashed through my mind, whereby it 
was possible to throw Cadwaller into the wrong 
track, and cause him to relax his vigilance. That 
now seemed our only chance. The Mystery in the 
passage without hissed sharply through the shattered 
keyhole. I smiled and prepared to play my card. 




3 11 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


“ Toby,” I whispered, “ take your cue from me. 
A great rage, with just a sprinkling of oaths and 
many threats of vengeance, will be quite in order. 
Watch me closely, and take me up promptly. Create 
as much disturbance as possible, but be sure to await 
my cue. Understand ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir.” He looked a little puzzled, but his 
eyes twinkled with the love he always had for action. 

“ And, Madam, if you see me fall, will you please 
consider that sufficient provocation for the uttering 
of a scream ? ” 

“ Fall ! ” she gasped. “ You must not fall ! Your 
side ! You will kill yourself ! ” 

“ Hist ! ” again came through the smoke-begrimed 
keyhole. 

“ Hay, nay, Madam, I shall not be injured.” 
(There was an unnatural feeling in my head, which 
made me reckless). “ And after you scream, act as 
you may think best. I have no doubt as to the re- 
sult. Be ready to escape at a moment’s notice.” 

“ Hist ! ” once more. 

“ And you ? ” she persisted. 

“ I shall be ready also, Madam,” 1 smiled reassur- 
ingly. 


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“ Hist ! hist ! hist ! ” came more sharply. 

“ Who’s there ? ” I growled angrily. 

“ Sh ! ” 

“ Oh ! So you come to warn me ! Am I right ? ” 

“ Sh ! sh ! sh ! ” more imperatively. 

“ One moment ; I’m busy.” 

He seemed to be trying to whisper something 
through the keyhole. But I think he was not great- 
ly disappointed because I could not catch his words. 

I searched hastily through my pockets until I 
found the parchment warrant from the King for the 
arrest of poor Sir Alfred. Then, moving to the other 
side of the door — that is, to the side having the key- 
hole — I rolled the document into the form of a horn. 

“ Hist ! hist ! ” he blew once more. 

I stooped quickly and peeped for but an instant 
into the hole. I could see nothing — the passage 
without was in darkness. This I took as a good 
warning. Crossing to the table I blew out the candle 
there, then stepped to where the lady and Toby stood 
and directed the latter to hold his hat between the 
light and me until he should hear any disturbance, 
when he was to rush to me at once. 

Mistress Heron still looked puzzled and anxious, 
but Toby, to whom this experience was far from 
new, smiled and made ready to obey. 

“ Hist ! hist ! hist ! ” impatiently. 

“ Yes, yes ; I’m coming ! ” 

“Sh!” 

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4 


4 


Again I crossed to the lock side of the door. From 
here I nodded to Toby, who at once shut off the light. 

“ Now,” I said, speaking very low through the 
horn, “ what is it ? ” 

He whispered something too indistinctly for me 
to catch; — but doubtless this was not accidental. 

“ Louder ! ” I called, still speaking through my 
trumpet, and keeping my head well past the side of 
the door. 

“ Put your ear closer, or I shall he overheard. 
The guards are in the passage albove. Hasten! I 
may be discovered.” 

“ I don’t think they would injure you if they 
should discover you,” I muttered to myself. 

“ What?” 

“ Nothing. I merely cursed the sentries.” 

“ Oh ! Now, can you hear ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Hold your ear very close ; I dare not speak above 
a whisper.” 

“ Yes, I understand. Go on.” 

“ You must escape at once through the secret pas- 
sage. Lord Cadwaller does not intend to starve you 
out, as he said. Soon he will force the door when 
you least expect it. You must not lose a moment. 
Can you hear me?” 

I changed the horn from ear to mouth. “ Yes. 
But who are you ? I cannot recall your voice.” 

He muttered something that I could not make out. 

3*4 


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Mark Everard 


* 


“ Wha,t ? ” I questioned. I fully expected what 
followed ; for ’tis difficult to lime an old bird that has 
been caught before. 

“ Sh ! Hold your ear closer. I dare not speak 
louder.” 

“ Very well. How I can catch everything. What 
name ? ” 

Crash! The parchment was snatched from my 
hand as though struck by lightning; a flash of flame 
leaped past my face ; the powder burned pungent in 
my nose ; a crash of glass came from the table, where 
the bullet had wrought havoc ; Mistress Heron 
screamed beyond my expectations ; Toby rolled out a 
volley of epithets ; and I sat down quickly, raised my 
leg, then let it fall to the floor with as great a noise 
as possible. 

“ Oh, the villains ! Oh, the knaves ! They have 
killed him ! They have killed him ! 99 Toby stormed 
with surprising naturalness. 

“ Oh ! oh ! oh ! ” the lady lamented. “ The cow- 
ards ! The cowards ! ” she denounced. 

“ Haste ! haste ! — the lights ! ” Cadwaller shouted. 
“ We have them now ! There’s only that little devil 
left ! Ha ! ha ! my lady, all’s fair in love or war ! ” 

I took advantage of the uproar progressing on both 
sides to rise painfully, with Toby’s assistance, to my 
feet. My side burned and throbbed even more 
cruelly, and my head felt strangely light. 

Down the stairs plunged the men in a body, while 

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his Lordship laughed excitedly and urged them to 
force the door. 

“ Don’t use your pistols ! ” he shouted above the 
sounds of the blows against the door. “ Use your 
swords. The lady must not be injured! Cut down 
the little devil whether he resists or not; he is too 
wise! Force it! Force it! Not so many! You 
are in each other’s way! Now, force it! ” 

“ Come on ! ” shouted Toby ; “ I shall account for 
a half dozen of you — ay, more ! Come, ravens, 
ravens, come; but you will need eagles’ claws, my 
ravens ! ” The little man now stood with candle in 
one hand and pistol in the other. “ Do you want 
them all here, Sir ? ” he whispered. 

“ Yes, yes. Make as much noise as possible; we 
must attract them that guard the other end.” 

The fastening of the bolt was straining under the 
weight of bodies being hurled against it. 

“ I’ll scaitter them,” Toby growled. 

“ There ; a little more together ; you are wasting 
your strength ! All hurl yourselves at the same mo- 
ment ! A few more united blows will finish it ! ” 
My Lord was giving good advice. 

I stood beside Mistress Heron by the open panel, 
ready to make our exit when the proper time should 
come. Toby moved quickly to the door and looked 
carefully to his pistol, his fierce little face showing 
set but mischievous in the light of the candle in his 
hand. 


Mark Everard 


* 


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Crash ! again came against the door, as the men 
followed their master’s directions. Zounds ! two 
more blows like that and the bolt would burst. 

“ Well done! ” Cadwaller approved. “ Three more 
such blows and we shall be in ! ” 

Toby, with his pistol to the keyhole, paused, await- 
ing his opportunity. ... It came. He fired — and 
the sound of the explosion was mingled with cries 
of consternation, oaths, a groan, and scampering of 
feet. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” the little man laughed, thrusting the 
empty weapon into his belt and drawing forth its 
mate. “ So my Lord is forgetful ! I thought I 
taught your Lordship to avoid keyholes a little time 
since ! ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! Yes, damn you, little rat, and I taught 
your master the same lesson more effectively! Ha! 
ha ! ” he mocked. 

“ Yes, murderer ! ” Toby shouted, seemingly 
choked with rage ; “ and I will teach you a many les- 
sons ere you take me ! ” 

“ Come, force the door, cowards ! Have you not 
faced a pistol before now? Must ye run ait every 
sound, cowards ? ” 

“ They have acquired the habit from association,” 
Toby put. 

“ Abide, abide, little rat ! I shall clip that sharp 
tongue short in a moment ! How — together ! ” 

Crash! The door bulged and groaned under the 

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Mark Everard 


4 


4 


heavy strain, the bolt bent and the staple drew farther 
from the frame. Had it not been that Toby’s bullet 
had made the men fearful of the fatal keyhole I 
doubt if the bolt could have withstood that blow. As 
it was, the enemy clustered to the other side — to the 
side on which the hinges were — which greatly dimin- 
ished the strain upon the bolt. 

“ Ha ! ha ! say your prayers, little rat ! One more 
blow will force it ! ” 

“ I have three pistols still, my Lord. With each 
of these pistols I shall kill one of your men, mayhap 
your Lordship.” 

“ How!” 

But Toby was as quick as they. He pressed the 
muzzle of his pistol against the panel upon which the 
greatest weight seemed to fall — and fired. Again 
there was a scattering and curses. But with these 
came another sound, which gave me more satisfac- 
tion: it was the heavy fall of a body to the floor. 
Toby’s bullet had found its billet — his Lordship had 
lost a good man. 

“ Do you approve of my marksmanship, my 
Lord ? ” Toby laughed. “ Of course I’m shooting 
under great difficulties. You see, a door is a thing 
difficult to aim through. How a keyhole has its ad- 
vantages — that is, when your target’s ear is directly 
opposite — eh, my Lord ? ” 

“ Move him aside, and call another to take his 
place! Haste! Damnation! do you let one little 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


devil that would not make a half of any one of you 
beat you off, when nothing but a shattered door 
stands between you ? ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” Toby laughed derisively, as the 
wounded — or dead — man was removed. “ Keep 
well to one side, my Lord ; I have two pistols 
left.” 

One of the men dashed up the stairs, and a moment 
later I heard him shouting to one of his companions 
to come to him. 

Cadwaller made no reply to Toby’s mocking. Be- 
hind his dignity he now took refuge, for behind it he 
could keep from admitting that Toby so far was hav- 
ing the best of the fight. 

I tiptoed softly to the table, and, taking up the 
stool, returned to my position beside the panel. Then 
I thought of the parchment that I had used as a 
trumpet, and took a glance over the floor for it; but 
it was not to be seen, so I gave it no more heed. 
’Twas of no consequence — save as a remembrance. 

In the breathing-space that Cadwaller permitted, 
Toby returned to the table and furiously reloaded 
his pistols. His eyes twinkled like little stars be- 
neath two ragged clouds. The little man was in his 
element — Cadwaller was furnishing him with a rare 
delight. When the odds were two to one Toby’s 
spirits were at their highest. True, he frowned even 
more than was his custom, but that was for the fear 
he had for Mistress Heron’s plight. His joy was 

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mixed with a keen anxiety, which made him ten 
times more formidable. 

The lady watched him with an undisguised fasci- 
nation. The strain upon her must have been terri- 
ble — for even I (than who there is no older hand at 
this kind of business) felt my muscles twitch and 
tremble from the high tension of the seemingly un- 
ending situation of uncertainty — , but still her eyes 
twinkled mischievously as she waticbjed the little 
tiger taking advantage of every moment, word, or 
movement. 

The fellow that his Lordship had sent for assist- 
ance now rushed down the steps again, followed by 
either one or two others. Our time was at an end. 
By a bold front, a few shots and a little strategy, we 
hgd gained more than I had hoped; but still I 
doubted if it was sufficiently dark without to cover 
our flight through the trees to the coach — in case 
those guarding the other end of the passage had been 
withdrawn. And then there came to me the thought 
that perhaps our men that guarded the carriage had 
been captured, and that we should not find the coach 
in waiting. Well, our position could be no worse 
than it was, and meeting difficulties before they came 
to me was a needless search for things with which I 
already w T as abundantly supplied. As the fellows 
reached the foot of the little stairs I dismissed all 
such thoughts from my mind, crossed cautiously to 
Toby and somewhat disappointed the little man by 

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directing him to take the candle and precede Mis- 
tress Heron along the secret passage. I had a plan 
whereby Cad waller’s pursuit might he slightly de- 
layed after we should have left the room. ’T would 
be of assistance only if he should know which was 
the secret panel. But I doubted not that the traitor 
had told him all. 

“ How/’ Cadwaller growled, “ you have hut one 
man opposed to you, and if you don’t force that door, 
despite his pistols, I shall have every man of you 
lashed into a jelly! ” 

I quickly stepped after Mistress Heron — taking 
the stool with me — and paused for a moment to look 
hack. Toby ahead had the candle, so the room was 
in darkness — nothing could he seen save a faint glim- 
mering of light through the holes in the door. I 
softly closed the panel and placed the stool against 
it, so that it could open hut a few inches, for the 
stool would then be jammed between the panel and 
one of the stone walls of the passage. 

“ How, all together! Make one blow do it! ” my 
Lord directed. 

Crash ! — and instantly another crash. The door 
was open. It had been forced from its hinges. The 
second crash was its fall to the floor. 

I waited for no more, hut hastened after my com- 
panions as quickly as my stiff hip and stabbing side 
would permit. Coming faintly to me as I tottered 


21 


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on were the sounds of rushing heavy feet, calls for 
light, cries of disappointment, and colossal oaths. I 
smiled as I pictured the look Cadwaller wore when 
he discovered not my dead and bloody body. 


3^2 


CHAPTER XIX. 


The exertion was beginning to tell against my 
strength. Several times, as I hastened through the 
chilly passage, my legs wabbled treacherously, and 
once or twice I bumped against the wall. My breath 
came with an effort, and a sickening feeling of weak- 
ness stole slowly through my body, gnawing at my 
heart, eating my resolution. A great part of my 
blood had been lost the night before, and as yet I 
had not had sufficient time to renew the supply. 
Hature may be strained and stretched to a great ex- 
tent, but she will not be abused beyond a certain 
point. I now felt that I was rapidly drawing near 
that point. Xothing but an iron will and hasty ac- 
tion could carry me through. But through I would 
go; to fail now would be too terrible. If fighting 
were to be done, it would ibe done within the next 
few minutes ; after that, the work would fall to Toiby 
alone. And the King ! Yes, I should see the King. 
Ah ! and Sir Charles was still to be considered. 
Could I hold out? I began to doubt it. Yes, I 
would hold out! Doubt could not be entertained 
nor encouraged. Where was Sir Charles ? I could 
not tell. He had said that if Cadwaller could be 
detained his overthrow was certain. Well, he had 

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been detained. But bad his detention been suf- 
ficiently long ? I hoped so, but doubted. And then, 
Sir Charles had warned me that he might be con- 
sidered my enemy after the Earl should be undone. 
Ha! I must overcome him, too! A pleasant pros- 
pect, when his Lordship had not yet been repulsed. 
But the King! the King! Ah! how could I meet 
my greatest opponent ? If I could but escape and 
see him I had a plan whereby strategy might win. 
But could I hold out ? Would my strength fail me ? 
A mountain of forbidding obstacles rose before me. 
Could I sweep them aside with a failing hand ? My 
heart sank. “ My God, I must ! ” I groaned 
through tight-clenched teeth. “ I must ! I must ! I 
must ! ” My heart beat like a heavy hammer ; my 
breath came like sobbing; I trembled weakly, but 
hastened on, borne down by the weight of my sword 
and pistols. 

“ Are you there ? May I help you ? ” The lady 
turned to reach out a helping hand. 

“ Ho, no ! After Toby ! — Quick, for God’s sake ! — 
They’re forcing the panel! — Julius has pointed it 
out ! ” 

“ Your strength fails you ! Let me take your 
hand, — please ! ” 

“ Ho, you must show Toby how to get out! One 
moment may ruin all ! ” 

She fluttered away after the flickering candle, but 
turned, as she drew near the little man, and looked 
back. 


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“ Noble, noble lady ! ” I whispered. “ Ah ! and 
she loves, she loves! But why is he not here, shar- 
ing her danger? My God, if I fail, he shall have 
my dying curse ! ” I ground my teeth and stumbled 
onward, my hand held to my wound to relieve it of 
the jolting. 

Would that dark cold passage never end? It 
seemed that I had traveled miles, and still the candle 
flickered far ahead, where Toby’s hat cut through 
the air before it. Of a sudden the cold atmosphere 
seemed to strike my heart. A chill ran through me. 
It jerked back my head, shook it from side to side, 
then hurled me forward gasping. 

Far in the rear a loud crashing of oak sounded 
through the darkness. By this time, doubtless, Cad- 
waller’s men were rushing to cut us off. There could 
be but one or two at most guarding the panel to which 
we were fleeing, but the others would hasten to the 
gates if they had not discovered the coach. In the 
latter case, they would rush to the assistance of them 
that waited us. His Lordship’s rage at being (baffled 
had blinded him to the uselessness of following us 
through the passage, but surely it would not cause 
him to overlook the necessity of cutting us off ahead ! 
“ Perhaps it will ! ” I thought, and, stimulated by 
the new hope, dashed on, keeping to the right to save 
my wounded side those savage blows when I lurched 
against the wall. 

Ah! the candle stopped. Mistress Heron sprang 

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to Toby’s side, her hands above her head — she was 
opening the secret panel. She glanced back over her 
shoulder and paused. 

“ Go on ! — Go on ! — I come ! — I come ! ” I shouted 
hoarsely, and pressed forward. 

Still she waited; she w r ould not move until sure 
that I should go with them — noble soul! 

“ Toby, take his arm,” she commanded, as I came 
labouring up. “ Oh, this will kill you, I know ! 
Your face is drawn with agony ! ” 

I leaned against the wall, waved Toby aside, and 
pointed to the panel. 

“ Quick ! — the coach ! — Toby, not another halt ! — 
Madam, haste ! ” 

Still she paused, watching me with troubled, beau- 
teous eyes. 

“ For God’s sake ! ” I cried. 

“ Guard him well, Toby. I look to you for his 
safety.” Zooks! one would think I was the charge 
that Cadwaller had called me. 

“ One moment is worth everything ! ” I groaned. 
“ Toby, I keep a pistol for you — if you look back ! 
Haste ! ” I whispered in his ear. “ Carry her, if she 
will go no other way ! ” 

Toby’s face was inscrutable. Hot a feature 
changed, but his eyes were more gentle than was 
usual. 

“ Remember,” I whispered again, “ if you stop I 
shall kill you, though you are my best friend.” 

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He said nothing — merely touched his hat, drew 
forth his sword and stepped from the passage the 
moment Mistress Heron opened the panel. 

The cell into which we followed the little man was 
very small, without a window — mayhap a dungeon 
in the old, old days. Opposite the secret passage 
was a short flight of stone steps (the whole room was 
in stone) leading to a battered and heavily studded 
door. 

As I closed the panel a faint sound came crawling 
through the darkness behind me. My Lord was 
thundering still at the other end. 

Toby sprang up the steps. 

“ Toby,” the lady whispered, “ before leaving the 
next room, put out the light.” 

“ Ay, Madam.” 

The door was not fastened. Toby swept on. Mis- 
tress Heron stopped at the foot of the steps and 
seized my arm. 

“ Oh ! ” I protested, “ you put me to shame, 
Madam.” 

“ Then you shall bear me company. I shame to 
be the cause of your suffering. Another man would 
be dead of such wounds and torture.” 

“ Oh, I am strong — quite strong ! ” / 

“ And not a murmur ! ” Her voice caught a 
little. “ Ah ! why could not the King be such a 
man ? ” 

I looked at her in surprise, scarce believing my 

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ears. True, the night before she had called me a 
hero, quite without reason, but then her excitement 
was a sufficient excuse for the extravagance ; now the 
same explanation did not come to me. My ears 
throbbed and my heart stood still, but Toby’s candle 
cast too uncertain a light for me to read her face. 
Then I remembered her love for another. I smiled 
sadly and wondered if I, at my best, reminded her of 
him. “ Ah, that must be it ! ” I groaned within me, 
and, clutching a pistol, followed Toby into the old 
stone hall. 

Directly opposite the door through which we en- 
tered was the stairs that lead to Sir Alfred’s room of 
glass above, and to our left the door to the outside — 
where the struggle would take place, I feared. 

Toby advanced quickly, but with caution, stepping 
upon his toes, his head thrust forward, his sword 
raised to his waist and clutched with a vigour that 
meant — Beware. 

He obeyed my directions not to look back, and 
moved steadily forward, thrusting his head farther 
out at every step. Mistress Heron still held my arm 
in kind assistance, despite my admonitions to keep 
by Toby. We were at the little man’s heels when he 
paused at the door, put the candle upon the floor, and, 
quickly seizing the knob, tried it. 

“ Not locked,” he whispered. 

The lady stooped and blew out the light, Toby 
swung the door open, and sprang forth. Thank 

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Heaven, ’twas almost dark without! The western 
sky was a deep, dull red; thick and heavy clouds 
were rolling swiftly to the west, and adding to the 
gloom with every moment. Hot a sound greeted the 
little man’s exit — not a sound. I stood aside and 
forced my gentle helper to pass out, while I closed 
the door. Still not a sound. Toby seized the lady’s 
arm and started almost at a run toward the deep 
shadows of the trees. She protested, struggled, and 
even struck at him, looking over her shoulder at me — 
in vain. He was inexorable. Ho halt would he 
make nor backward glance. He knew my mind, and 
knew that I meant what I had said. I hastened 
after as fast as my tottering legs would hear me. In 
the shadow of the first tree I glanced back, gasping 
and glad for the pause. 

Zounds ! there it was — the thing that I most 
dreaded. A black shadowy form slunk from a cor- 
near near the door and glided noiselessly, swiftly 
toward the wing in which we had left Cadwaller. 
For but a moment I saw it, — then the darkness closed 
in more thickly and swallowed it up. 

A shiver ran down my iback ; my little remaining 
strength seemed suddenly to leave me, and I was 
forced to seize the tree to keep from falling. 

A little cry came to me, then the sounds of a strug- 
gle — and I heard Mistress Heron’s voice. 

“ Do as I hid you, or I shall call them to us ! ” she 
threatened. 


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4 


“ And then they would kill him at once,” Toby 
growled. “ Come, Madam ; I must use force if 
necessary. I’m only obeying orders. He’d rather 
die than fail, Madam.” 

Another little struggle. 

My blood sprang through my veins with a new life. 
Her fear for me was like to ruin all. I ground my 
teeth, clenched my pistol, pressed my hand to my 
side, and forced myself along. 

“ Oh, Toby, Toby ! how can you do it ? ” Her 
voice was choked with sobs, .and carried a reproach 
that cut the heart in twain. “ And — and he 
loves — he loves you, Toby! He told — told me so! 
Oh, I cannot, I will not leave him to be murdered! 
Toby ! Coward ! Devil ! Let me save him ! My 
God ! I must save him ! ” Her voice rose to a 
scream of frenzy. “ I must ! I must ! I will ! I 
will save him ! I’ll kill you ! Fiend ! Fiend ! ” 

Her struggles had delayed them so I was now but 
a few paces behind. 

“ Oh ! oh ! oh ! ” I heard her weep. Then her 
voice sank to a sobbing moan, as the remorseless little 
man slowly carried her along. 

’Twas growing very dark beneath the trees, and 
overhead the wind began to rustle through the leaves 
— a warning that the rain was near at hand. 

“ On, on, Toby ! “ I gasped. 

“Let me walk,” the lady commanded. “I will 
go. Help your master.” 


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“No! I shall follow! The coach! — Haste! — 
Have the — men ready ! ” 

Toby uttered no sound. He let his fair burden 
down and, seizing her hand, dashed forward once 
more, dragging her along. 

On, on, on we went, the shadows growing deeper 
with every step, and the wind puffing up cooler and 
stronger after each lull. Would the sight of the 
coach ever cheer me ? Would that straining flight, 
that age of torture, never cease? My head rolled 
backward and forward, and from side to side, with 
every laboured step ; my breath came in great, pain- 
ful sobs, straining through my closing throat ; my 
feet clung to the earth when I lifted them and crashed 
against it when I put them down. Great God! the 
jolting was an agony that wrenched my heart and 
dropped my jaw. A glass of wine, and I could have 
been a man — ay, even a moment’s rest would have 
revived me much. But the long wait in the cellar, 
the flight through the chilling passage, and this never- 
ending stumbling through the trees were trials too 
great, too great ! On, on, on, ever onward ! Had we 
missed the coach in the growing darkness ? Had its 
hiding-place been revealed to Cadwaller? Surely 
either one or the other of these calamities had hap- 
pened ! . . . Still Toby pressed onward, dragging 
the kindest heart in the whole broad world be- 
hind him. My sobbing gasps for breath roared in 
my ears until I. thought our foes would hear, and 

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thus we should be betrayed. . . . Still Toby wound 
his way through the trees. 

“ He surely must know where the coach should 
he ! ” I thought. “ We have not reached the place. 
Can we reach the place ? ” I moaned. 

“ Ho, no, you cannot, Mark Everard! ” something 
bellowed in my ear. 

“ Ha ! ha ! I cannot, eh ! ” came whistling through 
my teeth. 

Then I bumped against a tree, my forehead strik- 
ing the rough bark with a cutting force. I sank to 
my knee, then slipped lower, lurched to one side, and 
lay gasping. 

A cry came to me. “ I will not go ! He has 
fallen ! Is this your love for him ? ” More fol- 
lowed indistinctly. Then came a scream, but it was 
partly drowned in a rumfble of thunder and the rus- 
tling of the leaves. 

I felt the warm moisture trickle across my fore- 
head. It revived me. My side stabbed ajid burned 
shrewdly. It angered me. That voice, that scream, 
thrilled through my veins and burned my heart like 
fire. That called me on. That voice, that sobbing 
little cry of pain, commanded my presence where it 
was. Ah, that was a power from which naught but 
the hand of death could hold back ! Where that voice 
called I would go on until my worthless life all should 
be done. 

“ On, on, Mark Everard, unworthy braggart ! 

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♦ 


What! do you falter now? Would you turn pol- 
troon at last; — become the thing you always have 
despised; — lose your last virtue, and prove your 
father’s curse well justified? No, no! — follow her 
until your last breath leaves ! ” I raged and struggled 
on. 

The lightning flashed brightly now, and the thun- 
der rolled nearer ; the trees bent and lashed under the 
strain of the wind, then stood still for a moment, 
while the Storm God held his breath, only to toss 
more vigorously at the next blast. ... A rough 
night seemed certain. 

The blood from the cut in my forehead, where I 
had bumped it against the tree, trickled into my eyes 
and half blinded me. I cursed, wiped it away, and 
drew my hat more over my brows, that I might ap- 
pear less shocking. My whole side was on fire now, 
and since my fall my head throbbed the more, and 
my breath came still as painfully. But my deter- 
mination was greater, and I hurled myself onward 
with a reckless fury. 

Ever deeper grew the darkness, ever nearer rolled 
the storm, and ever farther Toby wound his way 
through the great black bodies of the trees. Time 
after time I lost sight of my leaders as I staggered, 
grim and bloody, along the dark and hopeless trail; 
but time after time I grasped my pistol tighter when 
a flash of lightning burned blue beyond them, show- 
ing a white face turned back in dumb encourage- 

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Mark Everard 


<k 


ment I fancied I could see those soft dark eyes 
come back to me, tender and sweetly tearful, after 
each bright flash. Before my face they floated, burn- 
ing into my soul, filling me with a new hope and re- 
viving my sorry strength. “ Come, come/’ they 
pleaded, “ come on yet a little, and you shall have 
your rest. Come; you will save me if you fail not 
now. The way is weary, but it is for me if you fail 
cannot fail ; I have called you ‘ hero.’ On, on, on, 
but a little more. You are nobler now than you were 
last night. On, on, on ; you cannot fail ; it is for me. 
On, on, my hero; ’tis my voice fhat calls.” 

“ I come, I come ! ” I sobbed aloud, then wiped 
my eyes again and dashed forward. 

Fla£h, flash, flash, came the light in quick succes- 
sion. . . . The coach stood huge, black and strong 
beneath a great old tree. Men and horses were bus- 
tling about ; the door was open, and Toby was lifting 
his precious charge within. Ere the last light died 
I saw her turn and wildly point back through the 
trees. Her voice was killed in the roll of thunder. 

“ Thank God for the darkness and the storm ! ” T 
wheezed, and zigzagged slowly on. 

Again the lightning, sharp-toothed and long, shot 
down the night before me. Blue fiery balls burned 
deep into my eyes. The thunder ripped the clouds 
apart and shook the rocking earth. The trees bent 
down, shrieking and trembling, clinging to the 
ground. I saw no coach nor soldiers now — saw noth- 

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* 


ing but the balls of fire, beard nothing but the screech- 
ing of the trees. My own gasps for breath were 
whisked away and lost to my throbbing ears. . . . 
Once more the lightning flashed. Still I could see 
no coach. The trees stood great and black around 
me. Ho lovely face looked back and coaxed me on. 

“ Gone,” I whispered to the raging blast — “ gone. 
She has gone forever, Mark Everard, poor fool, poor 
fool, poor fool ! ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” the wind laughed in my teeth. 
“ Yes, gone to where Cadwaller waits with folded 
arms! Ha! ha! Mark Everard, you are done at 
last!” 

“ Who’s that ? It is a lie ! ” I shouted back, and 
raised my pistol. 

“ Ha ! ha ! your hour is come ; and in your last 
moment ’tis Defeat that cheers ! ” 

I braced my back against a tree. “ Ah ! old De- 
feat and Death ! I’ve faced you many times, but 
never yet have felt your touch. Come, come, my 
friends, there’ll be no compromise. Come on ; 
you’ve — eaten up — my breath ! ” 

The lightning still blazed before my eyes, shooting 
balls of fire and blackness alternately across my field 
of vision. But through all this confusion I could 
see two dark forms coming on. When I raised my 
pistol they hastily drew back and separated, then dis- 
appeared. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” I laughed, “ you fear me still ! Ah, 

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a losing game I play, — therefore the nobler! Come 
on; but little of me now is left; I would play my 
last card well ! ” 

No sight there was of them. Even the lightning’s 
flash showed naught but lashing trees and rich green 
sward. I stepped from the tree, my knees bending 
treacherously as I staggered out. The wind whisked 
the hat from my head, and my hair, freed, irritating- 
ly lashed my eyes. Poor bruised and haggard out- 
cast, I stood persecuted by Nature’s every force; 
mocked by the laughing, whistling wind, blinked by 
the burning, crackling light, deafened by the roaring, 
shaking thunder, while fat Defeat and heavy Death 
lurked greedily behind the trees. . . . But she, I 
prayed, was safe. 

“ You fear me still ! ” I laughed again. “ Come, 
come, — make haste before — I fall ! — you’ll have 
more glory so ! ” 

Flash, flash, flash, the blinding light came ever 
again, and the thunder shook the earth. I staggered 
back, my palm pressed to my eyes. ... A hand 
seized my wrist, an arm wound around my waist, then 
another seized my legs. 

“ Ah ! And trapped by cowards — in the end ! 
My failures are — complete ! ” 

I would not please them with a struggle — they 
would laugh at my weakness, I feared. I sank 
into their arms, and lay gasping, as the first large 
drops beat through the leaves. 

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A hat was stuck upon my head. “ Now,” said 
a heavy voice, and I was lifted from the ground. 

“ A curse upon her skulking lover ! ” I shouted 
as the thunder crashed. . . . Then I sank into peace- 
ful blackness. 


22 


337 


CHAPTER XX. 


The rain was falling in heavy sheets upon some- 
thing that gave it a hollow sound. . . . The lightning 
flashed in but one place, forming a square of light in 
a frame of black. . . . The thunder still rolled, but 
less heavily — the rain was drowning its voice. ... I 
began to develop the feeling that I was moving ; and I 
soon made out a rumble, as of wheels. Something 
was across my forehead — something soft, as a cloth. 
A jolt shook me up a little, and I knew for a surety 
that I was in a coach. I raised my hand quickly to 
my head — and started with the discovery that my 
fingers still grasped a pistol. 

“ Thank God!” 

? Twas her voice, I should swear! 

“ Ah ! have we passed the gates ? ” I cried, quickly 
sitting up and gasping in a deep breath of the cool 
wet air. 

“Hush! No; we have just started toward them.” 
Her voice was broken, and shook painfully. But, 
then, what other woman would have had her con- 
sciousness even? 

“ And did Toby wait for me?” I demanded an- 

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grily. (The lightning flashed brightly, and I saw 
the little man on the other seat.) “ Have my orders 
weight no more ? ” 

“ Ho, no — hush ! Toby ia not to blame. I — I 
forced him to wait.” 

“ Forced him, Madam!” 

“ Yes, yes ; but let it pass.” 

“ Yes, let it pass, but we, I fear, may not.” 

“Hot what?” 

“ Hot pass the gates. Toby is easily forced of 
late.” 

My heart was bitter, for all my pains were like to 
be in vain. 

“ Ho. Do not blame him. I — I held a — pistol 
to his head. He — he could not help it.” 

“ You — you held a pistol to his head ? ” 

“ Yes. He forced me into the coach ; and you 
turned and staggered off in the wrong direction. 
Had you been killed I should have felt your blood 
upon my head! I — I could not hear to see such 
murder! — I snatched a pistol from Toby’s belt! — 
I could not help it ! — I would do it again ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” I .said quietly. My heart would let me 
say no more. 

“ How you are with us ; and if we fail, we all shall 
fail together ! ” Her voice still shook, but not from 
fear, I know. 

I sat still, taking deep and rapid breaths of the 
strength-reviving air. Toby said no word, but now 

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and again, when the lightning blazed, I saw him 
staring out — his hat drawn fiercely forward, and a 
pistol in his hand. My anger melted as I thought 
of the sacrifice the noble little man had made that he 
might obey my last command. He had forced on 
to the eonhh, and would not have lost a minute, even 
though I should have been left behind. Ah, you 
that know not Toby’s love for me cannot imagine 
what that meant to him! It tore his heart-, I war- 
rant ; and I wonder not that he so calmly submitted 
when the lady put the pistol to his head. And she ! 
— Dear, noble soul! In the darkness I stealthily 
drew my handkerchief and wiped my eyes. ... I 
was very weak. 

The coach proceeded slowly — the horses walked. 
We were on a level road now. The jolt that had 
roused me to reality was when we left the turf and 
trees behind. The storm was rolling over; the rain 
was falling less heavily with every passing moment. 
I peered forth and saw that clouds in black and 
ragged mats were scudding hastily across the sky, 
and in one spot taking on faint silvery edges. The 
splashing of the horses’ feet came to me clearly as 
the rain lessened, and the grinding of the wheels 
upon the gravel sounded alarmingly loud. 

“ Which gate?” I asked. 

“ The front, Sir.” Toby’s voice was low and 
hollow. 

I reached forward and put my hand upon his 

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shoulder. “ Forgive me, old friend,” I said sin- 
cerely. “ F aith, my temper has not improved, I 
fear.” 

He cleared his throat very gruffly. “ Storm’s 
passing, Sir,” came out of the darkness. 

“ Yes, Toby, in more senses than one.” 

“ How, that is better, much better,” said the lady. 
“ Our forces again are united. You both are too 
brave to quarrel between yourselves.” 

Toby coughed uneasily. 

“ Why the front gate ? ” I asked presently, to 
break the stillness. 

“ I thought they would expect us to leave by the 
other, Sir.” 

I considered a moment. “ Yes, and the rear gate 
may be locked. They can only bar the front one 
since the lock is shattered. Hark ! What is that ? ” 

“ Our men crossing the little bridge, Sir.” 

“ Ah ! There’ll he a fight at the gate, Toby. Are 
your pistols dry ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir. Yours may be wet, Sir. Will you 
take one of mine ? ” 

“ Ho, Toby ; my hand is something unsteady to- 
night. I’ll trust to the stout old blade.” 

I felt an arm tremble against my side. 

“ Are you — are you determined ? ” Her voice 
came in an almost whisper. 

I laughed forcedly a little. “ Hay, Madam, I’ll 
say resigned.” 


34 1 


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I felt her shudder. 

In another moment we were crossing the little rus- 
tic bridge. We went very slowly and carefully, for 
the coach completely filled the passage. Indeed 
careful management on the part of the driver was 
required to guide us along the path even ; for it was 
but a walk, too narrow by far for a coach. 

“ The dear old bridge,” she murmured. 

“ How long, how long ago,” I sighed, not knowing 
that I spoke aloud. 

“ Yes. And yet but a fortnight. Will it ever 
again be peaceful? Do the fishes still haunt this 
dear spot, or have they left in fear ? Oh, the change 
since yesterday ! ” Again she shuddered and 
pressed back into the cushions. 

“ There is where I stood and thought aloud,” I 
whispered. 

“ And here you gave your sword in my defence.” 

“ In which it has been of but little servcie.” 

“ Oh, you are unjust ! Is it no service to save me 
then?” 

“ But I have not.” 

“ You will.” She spoke with a confidence not 
warranted by the circumstances. Her faith in me 
was strangely great. 

Again I swore I would not fail. 

’Twas very dark now, for the lightning was far 
to the west, where the thunder still rolled as a dis- 
tant growl of wrath. The rain still drizzled a little, 

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but the moon was struggling determinedly to pene- 
trate the clouds. The bushes at the sides of the path 
scraped and snapped aloud as the great wheels 
ground them down. The strain upon our spirits 
grew great. Slowly we were drawing near the place 
where our fate would be decided. Either we should 
pass forth secretly and unharmed or a fight awaited 
us, the result of which was only too certain. The 
darkness was full of dread, but in it lay our greatest 
hopes. If we could reach the gates ere the moon 
would break forth we might break through the enemy 
in the darkness. But the crackling of the bushes was 
as a messenger sent before. ’Twas scarcely possible 
that we should have the good fortune to get very near 
without attracting attention; for I was forced to ex- 
pect to find Cadwaller and his men awaiting. What 
Toby had said might be true ; my Lord might expect 
us to attempt to leave by the other gate. But it was 
not likely that the main entrance would be left un- 
guarded. The blackness gradually took on a gray- 
ish look — the moon was winning its Jcontest. I 
clenched my teeth the tighter and leaned forward to 
listen. We must have been very near the gates by 
this. Would the clouds hold out until we should 
have passed? 

A chill ran up my back and shook my head. 

“ What is it ? ” Her voice was low but anxious, 

“ Nothing, Madam. I but trembled with excite- 
ment.” 


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“ Not a chill ? ” 

“No, Madam.” I lied to allay her alarm. A 
burning disk, with the gash over my ribs for a cen- 
tre, was growing quickly. It now covered my whole 
side and arm, and was rushing swiftly to my head. 
I felt my strength returning as it ran through my 
veins. 

The coach came to a stop. 

“ We’re near the gate. Shall we make a dash for 
it ? ” The voice came from without. One of our 
mounted men was leaning from his saddle and speak- 
ing through the window. 

“ Have we reached the main drive ? ” 

The fellow started — I heard him catch his breath. 
Doubtless my voice, still full of life, surprised him. 

“ Yes — yes, Sir. We are now at the end of the 
narrow path, Sir.” 

“ Then strike the first blow. Tell the driver to 
keep close behind you.” 

He moved on. In another moment we were fol- 
lowing. 

“ At the end of the narrow path,” I thought. “ We 
now enter the broad road — which leads to destruc- 
tion.” 

Another chill ran through me. I held my breath, 
clenched my fists, and overcame the shaking. 

We turned into the main drive. The moon broke 
through her cloudy wrappings. A pistol-shot 
snapped sharply near the gates. Then loud cheering 

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and shouted orders drowned all other sounds. We 
were discovered. The fight was almost on. 

With hands of fire I undid the fastenings of the 
door. 

“ Now, Toby.” 

“ Be careful, Sir.” And he followed my example 
on the other side. 

The lady put her hand upon my arm. “ Wait. 
Not until you must,” she pleaded. “ It may not he 
necessary.” 

The moon was at its full, and now, having broken 
clear, flooded the earth almost to the brightness of 
the day. The drops depending from the leaves 
glistened like polished jewels. I cursed the sudden 
flood of beauty, and thrust forth my head to see what 
force opposed. 

Three I saw clearly, all mounted, at my side. 

“ How many there, Toby ? ” 

“ Two, Sir — only two ! ” 

The gates were closed and barred. 

With a cheer our two men dashed ahead, attack- 
ing the five awaiting. Their swords flashed in the 
moonlight ; for their pistols all were wet. In an in- 
stant the little forces met. The blades crashed in 
the first encounter; a pistol cracked, but no one fell. 
From where we waited nothing could be seen dis- 
tinctly. A rush of men and horses, winding in and 
out, to the accompaniment of clicking, whistling 
steel, was all we could make out. Two men — one 

345 


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* 

was the wounded Denton — matched against five. 
What the result would be was only too plain. 

I had thought to see some of the knaves come to 
attack the coach, but they chose a wiser plan. United 
they would overcome the two, then still united over- 
whelm us. ’Twas a clever plan — good generalship — 
but I hoped to spoil it. 

I swung the door open and leaned out. 

“ Drive on!” I shouted. “ Divide them! Force 
your horses through! Haste, or they’ll have your 
comrades overcome ! ” 

“ Ay, Sir ! ” He lashed the horses and they 
sprang forward and into the mass of struggling men 
and beasts. 

This sudden move caused consternation. For a 
moment the struggle stopped. Then I heard Cad- 
waller’s voice. 

“ Strike, and strike quickly! Watch the coach! ” 

They were at it again ere one might draw a breath. 

Toby sprang from his door and slammed it shut 
behind him. I followed his lead, and rushed to meet 
the first approaching horseman. . . . ’Twas the Earl 
of Cadwaller, himself. 

“ Well met, sly fox ! ” he snarled. “ I’ll see if 
you’re proof to the blade as to the bullet ! ” 

He spurred his mount and dashed forward, as 
though to ride me down. I stepped to one side and 
guarded, then pointed furiously beneath his arm. 
Ill luck! I missed him by an inch. He wheeled 

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his horse within its length to cut me from the coach. 
I saw his plan and sprang to the door before him, — 
then struck as he went past. He swore, hut caught 
it manfully, and wheeled about again. 

Toby’s loud cheer came from the other side. His 
pistol cracked. “ One down ! ” he shouted. “ My 
Lord should guard the gate ! ” 

The burning fever drove me mad, but lent me a 
giant’s strength,, I clutched the door, and then 
stood waiting his Lordship’s rush. 

“ Ha ! ” cried the man from the driver’s seat, and 
a bright flash cut through the moonlight. I looked 
again — and saw my Lord’s great horse, with head 
flung high, rush backward under the spreading 
branches of a tree. 

“ Well done ! ” I cried. “ But keep your horses 
well in hand, my man! ” (The ready fellow had 
struck Cadwaller’s mount across the nose with the 
flat of his heavy sword). 

“ I’ll crop your ears for that, you knave ! Know 
you not that you are helping the King’s enemies to 
escape ? Lift not your blade again ! In the King’s 
name I command it! You wear the uniform — be- 
ware ! ” The Earl’s loud voice shook with a fiery 
rage, as he struggled to control his horse made mad 
with pain. 

“ Keep back ! Keep back ! ” the lady pleaded in 
my ear. “ Do not fight unless- you must ! Remem- 
ber your wound ! ” 


347 


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“ Ah, but I cannot die ! My strength is coming 
back ! My weight seems naught ! I walk upon the 
moonbeams ! JSTone here can kill me, I know ! My 
brain is all afire ! ” 

“ What ails you ? Oh, what ails you ? Why, 
why these wild words ? 99 She seized my hand where 
I clutched the door. “ Oh ! oh ! ” she cried. “ As I 
feared ! As I feared ! ” Her voice died out in a 
shudder, and she sank back into the darkness of the 
coach. 

Cadwaller still struggled with his horse. He had 
great difficulty to retain his seat, for more than once 
the branches almost swept him to the ground. Toby, 
at the other side, still made the night to ring with 
blows and mocking shouts. The other men fought 
back and forth, hard pressed and harder pressing; 
their horses plunging, rearing, circling, pawing dust, 
while cut and thrust shot through the greenish light 
unceasingly. The man upon the driver’s seat now 
had his hands well filled, for the sound and flash of 
savage steel alarmed his horses. They plunged and 
reared, ran back this way and that, and called the 
lash well into play. 

“ Why do you stand back, my Lord ? ” I laughed. 
“ Come forth ! Come forth ! ” 

His horse sprang high in air and dashed far out, 
goaded to fury by the spur. I raised my point and 
rushed to meet him. A curse from Cadwaller, a 
flourish from me, and the maddened beast swung 

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quickly to one side, seized the bit 'between its teeth 
and plunged beneath the trees. On he rushed, the 
little branches snapping as he went. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” I laughed, “ you’re saved, my 
Lord, for a few short moments longer ! ” 

I sprang toward the gate, dodged quickly through 
the group of wheeling horses and reached to lift the 
heavy bar. 

But something made me turn my heajd. A beat- 
ing of horses’ hoofs came down the drive from the 
direction of the house. I then saw the reason for 
the pistol-shot and cheers and shouts when we came 
into view: ’twas a signal to them that waited — the 
remnant of his Lordship’s band. 

I turned again to lift the bar ; but my eyes, burn- 
ing like coals of fire, seeing everything, and — I felt — 
casting two bright searching lights, flashed upon 
something that made me catch my breath. 

I was directly before the porter’s lodge. Ho light 
was burning within, but the door stood wide open. 
For the last five minutes not a thought of J ulius had 
crossed my mind ; but now, with the open door before 
me, another chill ran through my burning frame. 
That hideous thing was not human. Where did it 
lurk in the darkness ? What hellish plan did it have 
afoot? I lifted one end of the bar — and dropped it 
to the ground. 

“ ’Od’s life ! ” I gasped, and raised my pistol. 

From a dark corner of the lodge a black form had 

349 


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* 


sprung. In its hand was a knife — the moon gleamed 
upon it. The men were fighting furiously, but poor 
Denton had been forced back because of weakness 
from his wound. His antagonist drove blow upon 
blow in heavy swings straight at his head. But the 
hardy fellow caught them manfully, slowly giving 
ground toward the lodge. The black figure darted 
at him from the rear, drew hack its knife and struck 
a coward’s blow at the horse’s leg. My pistol failed 
me. I threw it at the devil’s head and sprang toward 
him — but too late. The poor beast snorted and 
threw high its head, fell back upon its haunches, 
then toppled to its side. The other mounted fellow 
swung about and faced me readily He spurred his 
beast and dashed at me. But I flung my hat in the 
horse’s face and rushed at the fiend in black. 

During all this Toby still fought at the other side, 
his mounted opponent proving his manhood thor- 
oughly by holding out so long against that mighty 
blade. The coach-horses still reared and plunged. 
Despite the driver’s lash they forced the carriage back 
and to one side, under the great limbs of a tree. 

“ How, murdering dog, you face me for the last ; 
this time upon the ground ! ” I swore and drew my 
sword. 

He shrank back from me into the deeper shadows, 
snarling like a kicked mad dog. 

The sounds of galloping down the drive drew 
near; — they thundered across the bridge 

350 


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I sprang after Julius, but a rush came behind me, 
and I wheeled just in time to guard a heavy blow 
aimed at my head by the fellow whose horse I had 
frightened. I slapped the beast upon the flank with 
the flat of my blade, and it reared and danced un- 
manageably about. The fellow gasped out a curse, 
and struck a back-hand blow. He missed me, and I 
made a lunge at Julius, who had daj-ted at my back 
from the shadows, when he saw me occupied. It 
seemed impossible to injure the creature; he avoided 
my steel like a snake. 

“ Here ! I am your victim ! Why do you not 
seek me ? ” 

In horror I turned my face to the coach. Great 
God ! there she stood by the open door. 

" Come ! I am your victim ! ” she repeated, while 
the struggle lulled. 

“ Back, Madam ! Back ! Into the coach ! ” I 
shouted wildly, and sprang toward her over poor 
Denton and his stricken horse. 

Instead of obeying, she darted into the deep shad- 
ows of the trees. Julius dashed after her, ere I could 
cut him off. 

At that moment Cadwaller’s reinforcements came 
thundering down, passed the coach and through us, 
slashing to right and left. 

“ Oh, God, she is lost ! ” I groaned, and plunged 
beneath the trees in the path of the black devil in 
human form. I saw her noble object in this seem- 

351 


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* 


ing madness. She thought to save me by leading off 
my enemies. 

Under the first tree I met Cadwaller face to face. 
His hat was gone, and he staggered as though 
stunned. He had been brushed from his maddened 
horse. I struck him aside with an arm of fire and 
sent him reeling from my path; then on I dashed, 
following the sound of rustling garments. 

The burning, maddening fever had spread with 
such a quickness that it now covered my whole body. 
It scorched my feet, my hands, my head, and parched 
my throat. My brain throbbed, my eyes ached as 
though being twisted from my head, and my side 
spurred me on with every breath. But still the 
fever gave me strength. ’Twas unnatural, to be sure, 
but strength it was, and I thanked God for it; for 
without that deadly burning, no power on earth could 
have forced me to walk a step. As it was I ran, and 
ran lightly, too. I seemed to have no weight. I 
flew along, taking great steps, my toes scarce touch- 
ing earth. In faith, I seemed to have not weight 
enough, for it made my steps uncertain, and my path 
most difficult to keep. 

I heard the crash of blows behind, but heard it in 
a dream. Toby and the other men would be over- 
come, I knew. Poor, faithful little Toby! Ho sur- 
render would there be in him. To the end he would 
fight, and more than one ruffian should stand before 
his God ere the brave little swordman’s arm should 

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fail. And now, at the last moment, all our efforts 
were in vain. We had sworn not to fail, even if we 
should go under. We had clasped hands upon it at 
the little bridge. And now no chance seemed left. 

I banished Toby from my mind, and hurled myself 
along. Once or twice, as he crossed a patch of 
moonlit greensward, I caught sight of the accursed 
Julius. His long slim back was bent like that of a 
hunting wolf ; he wore no hat, and his straight and 
dead black hair was streaming as a mane far out be- 
hind. 

“ Halt, murdering devil, halt ! ” I roared. 

He ran but faster with each shout I gave. 

I tore my hair in torturous madness, and rushed on 
like a raging fury. 

The trees stood in my way ; the bushes snapped be- 
neath my feet. The trees I dodged; the bushes I 
went through or over; but still I gained no foot in 
the race of life and death. The pace was an agony. 
I could not realise that a lady could run so fast. The 
thought came to me that mayhap Julius had given 
up the chase and now was fleeing for his life. But 
with the next breath this dear hope was shattered; 
the lady crossed a patch of open ground like a hunted 
fawn. In the centre she glanced back wildly. Even 
at the distance I was behind, I could see her eyes open 
wider in a sudden terror, as she caught sight of the 
black devil behind her. She uttered a little cry and 
ran the faster. I leaped a bush and strained my 

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every muscle. My sword I grasped in a hand of fire 
and dragged it behind through bushes and round 
trees. 

With every step I took I burned the fiercer. I felt 
that soon my head would burst. My skull seemed 
filled with fiery coals. My temples swelled with the 
straining heat ; and my eyes were bursting from their 
sockets. Tightly I locked my left hand in my hair 
and pressed a temple to relieve the pain. But on, 
still on, I flew. 

The lady again came into view. She was in the 
path — she was crossing the bridge. A curse upon my 
tardiness! Julius was gaining rapidly; and — 
yes — I was losing ground ! 

I shouted aloud, but my voice sounded like a 
woman’s scream of pain. No sign did Julius give 
that he heard my call, but on he glided, snake-like, 
and still bent low. 

A moment later I was on the little bridge. I saw 
the fleeing lady turn suddenly from the path. Ah! 
I saw her object. Driven to despair, and without 
hope of reaching the house before she should be over- 
taken, she had turned toward the arbour — her little 
paradise. 

I saw a chance. Mayhap she meant that I should 
see it If I could be but fleet enough of foot, I 
might yet be in time. She was taking a circuitous 
course, so I might still have time to cut across from 
the bridge and reach the arbour before Julius could 

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come up. I laughed wildly at the thought. My 
voice was high, like that of a frightened child. 
Through the hushes I .dashed, and, crouching low, 
rushed on toward the little home of roses by the 
stream. 

The birds fled blindly from their nests — I sped 
along. The briers scratched me and the branches 
cut — I prayed and darted on. The stream bowed in 
and crossed my path — I cursed and swung aside. 
The moon went out behind a cloud — I screamed in 
madness and groped my way ahead. 

I heard a cry a little farther on. Then voices, 
mingled and raised high, came to me. Tor a mo- 
ment my heart stood still. One voice was hers. I 
should hear that in my grave. It came from the 
arbour. I must have run more slowly than I 
thought. Too late ! He would kill her ere I could 
interfere. And the accursed moon still sulked be- 
hind the cloud. All, all, all seemed against me! 

I hurled myself through the bushes, slashing to 
right and left with my sword. Ah ! I was coming 
near now. I heard her voice, gasping rebuke and 
entreaty. But the black devil snarled a reply that 
made my blood run cold. I uttered no shout now, 
lest I should warn him of how close I was, and so 
drive him to his hellish work ere I could reach him 
and prevent. I sprang onward as lightly as possi- 
ble — and, freed now from the bushes, darted through 
the darkness toward that gasping, pleading voice. 

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The cloud passed from the moon. There was the 
arbour, hut a few yards off, and above me. I had 
run to the water’s edge. I rushed forward, slanting 
up the hank. My foot crashed intc^ a bush; the 
earth sprang up, and I rolled, struggling painfully, 
until my hand struck the water. 

“ Ah ! there is your great soldier now. I failed 
to finish him last night ; but he’ll not be long behind 
you, Mistress.” ’Twas the voice of the human devil. 

I turned over and drew my wet hand across my 
face of fire. 

“ Oh, Julius, Julius, I never have been aught but 
kind to you! Why, why do you seek my poor sad 
life?” 

He laughed, but it sounded like the snarl of a 
wolf. 

“ Oh, I am only a poor hideous creature — that’s 
what you said to him — only a dog, to be petted and 
kicked! I heard you say as much when I listened 
in the secret passage! ” He snapped the words out 
as though they choked him. 

“ Oh, J ulius ! ” I heard her gasp. 

I scrambled to my feet, and started stealthily up 
the bank. I could see them darkly cut against the 
sky. 

“ If I let you live one of those three will have 
you. If not this Everard, then either my Lord or 
Sir Charles. But I’ll outwit them all ! ” Again 
he laughed. 


356 


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She shrank back from him and clung to a shrub 
for support. I crouched very low, that I might not 
be seen until I could make one rush and reach him 
ere he could use his knife. 

“ And — and ’twas you, — last night ? ” she gasped. 
She was just beginning to realise the meaning of his 
wild words. “ Oh, Julius Julius, you would mur- 
der me ! ” She put her hand to her forehead and 
leaned forward to peer into the savage face in search 
of a sign of relenting. But the moon shone on it. 
It was terrible. “ Is it — is it madness, Julius?” 
Her voice was tremulous, but low and almost 
pitying. 

“ Madness ! Ha ! ha ! yes, madness ! ” He threw 
back his head and laughed wildly, his black hair 
shaking around his face, lending it a look more un- 
natural still. “ Madness it is ; but in another ’twould 
be christened ‘ love ’ ! ” He leaned toward her, his 
eyes flashing and lips grinning repulsively. 

“ All ! ” I snarled, but smothered the cry with my 
Angers. 

“ Oh, Julius! ” the lady screamed, and drew back, 
her hand before her face. 

“ Oh, you cry out at that, Mistress ! ” he hissed. 
“ I aim the dog, the hideous creature ; I am the porter, 
and you loathe me ! How you know why you must 
die ! ” 

The moonlight in the air turned red as blood; a 
mist of blood floated before my eyes. This was the 

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cause of my hatred. From the first I knew there 
was some deep reason in my wish to crush him. I 
wriggled up the hank, all red before me, the devil 
gnawing at my heart. If I might kill this fiend the 
fever then might take its fatal course. When he 
should he dead, I could die in almost peace. 

“ I knew this day would come,” he went on sav- 
agely ; “ I knew that nothing hut this could be the 
end ! I put it off until the last moment ; but when I 
saw that longer delay would mean my failure, I tried 
to strike. But that half-dead fool lying down the 
hank there prowled like a cat and guarded you too 
well. I made sure to finish him, but in that also I 
failed, it seems. No matter, he shall go to-night, 
soon after you. They’ll hang me if they catch me, 
but what care I ? Here I live in hell ; so why should 
I not go down below ? Ha! ha ! ha ! ’twill be a great 
party ! Heron Hall shall be red with blood ! ” 
Again the fiend laughed wildly and thrust his ghastly 
face toward her. 

Mistress Heron shrank back in terror and disgust, 
one hand held up for protection, the other behind her, 
as though to feel her way. Two cautious steps she 
took backward, moving slowly toward the streajn, ere 
he detected her plan. 

“ Ah,” he snarled angrily, “ none of that ! Your 
fate is sealed ! Your time is come ! ” He seized 
her arm and drew her struggling to him. 

I measured the distance with bursting eyes. A 1 

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little more and I could do it in one rush. I crouched 
still lower and drew myself along. 

“ Ah,” he cried, “ ’tis not because I hate you that 
I kill you; ’tis because I love you, love you! But 
I’m the porter, the dog, so you must die ! But first 
come to me — here, yes, here ! ” He wrapped his long 
black arms around her. 

“ Oh, God ! ” she gasped, straining to break free. 
Her hand she pressed against his throat, her head she 
turned away, wild and terrified. She screamed and 
called for help, struck with both hands and scratched, 
flung her head from side to side in frantic efforts to 
avoid his beast-like, searching face. 

The madness overcame my will; all caution left 
me in a yell of hate. I shot up the bank like a 
springing cat, and dashed to where she fought for life 
and all. 

“ Die, hellish devil, die ! ” I snarled, and flashed 
my blade at his long, gaunt neck. 

He bent snake-like to one side ; the steel but grazed 
his skin. 

His victim tore herself half-free, and her one hand 
grasped my shoulder. But still he held her with one 
arm around her waist. 

“ jja ! — you ! ” he snapped, and raised his knife, 
his eyes blazing like balls of fire, and his teeth flash- 
ing in the moonlight. 

I tried to tear her from him, and shortened my 
blade again to run him through. 

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“ Too late ! ” lie grinned, and the steel shot down. 

I tried to catch it on my hilt or arm — too late ! I 
saw it strike her bosom and disappear. A groan 
escaped her lips, and her whole weight hung upon 
my arm. I choked with a tearing at my heart, and 
struck with a cry of madness — but too late! He 
sprang back out of reach, cast but one backward 
glance of exultation, and fled into the blackness of 
the trees. 


360 


CHAPTER XXL 


My heart stood still, then fluttered like that of a 
wounded bird; my brain grew heavy, then burned 
again with a fierceness indescribable. 

“ Murdered ! ” I gasped, and stared around at the 
bushes dazedly. “ F ailed at the last ! Permitted 
her to be killed before my eyes! No! It must be a 
dream, or the madness of the fever ! She cannot be 
dead ! Why, I feel no weight upon my arm ! And 
yet, there she hangs, limp and lifeless! Oh, it is a 
dream or a madness; I could not hold her so if it 
were real! Pm wounded, burning with fever from 
neglect and cold. I surely have not the strength to 
move, much less, therefore, to hold this lady here 
upon my arm without an effort. No, no ! I’m lying 
in some spot beneath the trees, or in a bed. ’Tis a 
dream — the imagining of a burning brain. Soon I 
shall awake and find all well. If I shout, will it 
waken me ? It sometimes does, they say. I’ll try.” 

I raised my voice and shouted with all my power. 
It sounded high-pitched, wild and unnatural. I 
shuddered and drew back. The body moved with 
me. I dropped to my knee and grasped her hand. 
She seemed to be all red, as were the trees and 
ground. 

“ No dream! ” I choked. “My God, no dream! 

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Yes, he struck her here; I saw the knife sink into 
her tender bosom! Oh, God! am I mad or is it 
real ? I cannot see ! All, all is red ! ” I permit- 
ted her to sink to the grass, cursed, tore my hair, and 
wept in agony. I dug my burning knuckles into my 
half-blind eyes to try to sweep away that mist of 
blood. Then, bending low, I held my face close to 
her bosom and peered through my fingers in search of 
the fatal gash. My whole soul went into that strain- 
ing look. I would see, before my sight should be 
completely gone. The moon was very dim now — it 
was struggling through thin fleecy clouds — , and the 
red before my eyes grew stronger. But I saw a rent 
in her gown — a great gash where the steel had cut 
down. I shuddered as I saw it, for it ran towards 
the heart. But yet I saw no blood — that is, no 
darker spot, for all was red to me. 

Ah, here ! ” I trembled, and fearfully inserted a 
finger in the rent, expecting it to come out dark and 
wet. “ What’s this ? ” I gasped — “ What’s this ? ” 
My finger met no blood nor flesh, but something hard 
and crackling. The knife seemed to have cut only 
the outer garment. I seized her hand again and felt 
her wrist; but my fingers burned and trembled so 
that I could not feel a pulse. 

The moon went out again behind a cloud. I shook 
my clenched fist at it and ground my teeth in rage. 
I bent my head against her swelling breast and list- 
ened for a beating there; but the throbbing in my 

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head and the ringing in my ears were loud enough 
to drown all gentle sounds. 

She sighed. I held my breath and listened, fear- 
ing some trick of my now untrusty brain. . . . 
Again she sighed, then uttered a little moan. I cried 
aloud in a wild and choking sob. “ Oh, God, she 
lives ! ” I laughed and wept. Again she moaned 
softly ; and I gently raised her head. 

The devil take the moon ! ” I snarled. “ She’ll 
die here in the dark ! To the house ! She must have 
care, and a woman’s gentleness ! To the house I I’ll 
face them all ! I’ll cut through an army, but she shall 
not die ! My dying curses on this darkness ! ” 

Still grasping my sword, I raised her tenderly and 
stumbled on toward the path. Strange as it may 
seem, I felt her weight but little — it seemed a shadow 
that I held. I stepped along lightly, still blind and 
burning. I walked on air, but wandered wide, far 
from my path. I halted now and then and strained 
my eyes to penetrate the gloom, that I might make 
out some tree or bush that would guide me to my 
destination. 

“ ’Tis sad,” I muttered, but the words broke shrilly 
on my ears. I stopped and stared around to see if 
’twas one that mocked me in the darkness. Nothing 
could I see but the dull pink mist, with here and there 
a darker, tapering patch, where stood a tree or some 
fantastic bush cut to deformity by the gardener’s 
knife. “ Yes, faith, ’tis sad — the saddest sight I 

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4 


have seen yet. Persecuted by that beast, our King; 
then hounded by his menial dog ; driven to despair ; 
bought and sold as tradesman's ware; at last struck 
down by a hellish porter's knife! And all before 
your face, Mark Everard ! The fever seized you.op- 
portunely, for it hides your blushes well! Failed 
miserably at every point, and yet have struck no 
blow in her revenge ! Ha! no, not yet ; but, by her 
life, I will! They both shall die before the moon 
goes down! " I paused and stare 1 up at tne misty 
light. She broke free from the clouds and smiled 
down sadly at me. 

I lost all thought of place and time. I wandered 
through the shrubs and trees, now in the path, now 
far astray. My thought was that in my arms I bore 
her soul, and with it I must reach the house. The 
moon went out and reappeared with every step I took. 
The pink mist deepened and # grew pale again at every 
breath I drew. My sword cut .through the bushes 
and struck against the trees. But on, still on, I wan- 
dered, with bursting head and stabbing side, my 
mind still drawing me toward the great dark pile 
standing against the sky. 

At last I broke out upon the lawn and swung un- 
evenly across the grass. 

In one room the lights were burning — 'twas in 
the room where first I had broken fast at Heron Hall. 
My maddened mind was playing me strange tricks. 
The incident of the mirror as I left that room that 

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morning stood out before my eyes in bold relief. 
Clearly I saw Sir Charles glance at Sir Alfred, and 
the other shoot the meaning glance at him. 

“ Watch that mirror closely,” came to me in a 
whisper. I thought it was her voice that spoke. I 
peered into her face, lying upon my shoulder, but 
she only sighed. 

e< She lives ! ” I croaked again, and stumbled 
dreamily along. 

“ Where am I ? — Oh ! ” she moaned, and raised 
her head. 

“ Alive ! ” I gasped. “ Alive ! ” 

She struggled, and stared into my face. “ You 
live ! You live ! ” she cried, still stunned. 

“ Ha ! ha ! I live ! Ay, for a little yet. My work 
is still to do. But you, Madam, you are near to 
death, I fear.” 

For a moment more she stared with a look of agony 
into my face, her hand holding back my hair. “ But 

you — ah, thir is awful! You ” She broke off 

abruptly, pressed her hand to her forehead and 
moaned aloud. 

I marched on grimly, steering a zigzag course to- 
ward the house. 

“ Oh, you are carrying me ! Let me walk ! ” she 
commanded suddenly. 

“Ha! ha! Hay, hush; you are dying! I saw 
the devil’s blade fleshed to the hilt in your bosom ! 
Hush, hush ! ” I soothed. “ A little while and we 

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shall reach the house. ’Tis a night of blood, Madam, 
and few here shall see the morrow dawn. I have not 
killed him yet, but I shall before my mad head shall 
burst.” 

She shuddered and tried to wriggle to the ground. 

“ Calm, Madam, calm ! I feel no weight. I walk 
in the red mist as in a di .am. Rest, rest; you are 
killed, I fear. But go not yet! Rest! Wait for 
me ! I have work still to do ! ” 

“ I am not killed ! ” she cried. “ Oh, no, ’tis you, 
’tis you ! Let me walk ! Please let me walk ! You 
— you will not refuse me ! I am not killed, nor even 
scratched ! I am but bruised ! Permi . me to walk ! 
Please permit me to walk ! See, I am well ! You 
will grant me this ? ” She was half -sobbing as she 
coaxed me as though I were a child. 

“ Ha ! she thinks that I am mad,” I muttered. 
“ She thinks I did not see him stab her. Ha ! ' ut I 
still know what’s afoot. Ha! ha! I’m still alive, 
and will know what’s afoot until the end.” 

Again she shuddered and tried to reach he ground. 
But I held her fast, and wandered slowly on. Her 
hand flew to her bosom, and I saw her eyes grow 
wider as she felt the rent. I heard a crackling 
sound, but took no heed and forced across the lawn. 

“ Look ! See ! ” she said with shaking voice. 
“ See, see ! It saved my life ! ” 

I blinked and stared at the thing she held before 


me. 


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“ Do you see ? Can you — can you see ? 99 she 
stammered tenderly. 

“ ’Tis red — all red with blood ! ” 

Her head again sank upon my shoulder, and her 
whole form shook with weeping. “ Oh, no, no, no ! 99 
she sobbed. “ ’Tis the parchment — the King’s war- 
rant — , which you used as a trumpet in speaking 
through the keyhole. It fell at my feet when that 
devil tried to shoot you. I put it — I put it in my 
bosom, because — because I — I wanted it as — as — a 
— a keepsake. Oh, cannot you see? It saved my 
life. His knife must have glanced when it struck 
it. How — now will you let me walk? ’Tis you, 
poor soul, that should be borne ! ” She still kept 
her face upon my shoulder, and her breast still shook 
with emotion. 

“ What ! Hot killed ? — nor scratched ? ” My 
heart leaped and burned like fire, and my voice 
sounded like the yelp of a dog. 

“ Ho, no ! I am but bruised ! Please let me walk ! 
Please — please ! 99 

I heard a rush of feet behind me, and a shout — 
an oath — roll out much farther off. I wheeled and 
snarled through the red moonlight, ready to bite at 
friend or foe. 

A tall dark form, bent low, and with drawn sword, 
was running swiftly at me. He wore no hat, and I 
soon made out his face to be Cadwaller’s. Far down 
the lawn — below the last terrace — a score or so oi 

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mounted men were coming slowly up. I heard one 
shout aloud in a sharp, commanding voice. 

“ Stop that madman ! The other must be blind ! 
He’ll kill him ! Stop it, I say ! ” 

Another, and little, figure was also coming on at 
his greatest speed. The oath I heard had come from 
him. Again he swore and shouted out a loud com- 
mand. ’Twas Toby — I recognised the voice. 

Cadwaller glanced but once behind to see how far 
the little man was still away, and then again he 
sprang toward me. His eyes were wild and fierce in 
the reddish mist; his clothes were rent where the 
branches had scratched him when his frightened 
horse had run away; and his hair swung back and 
forth across his face. 

“ At last!” he hissed, stopping just beyond a 
sword-reach. “ Which must I fight this time ? ” he 
sneered. 

“ Oh, God is good ! ” I croaked. “ How you shall 
die, base dog ! ” 

I put Mistress Heron to her feet and, though she 
fought to stand before me, forced her behind my back. 
One quick glance I shot at the running Toby and the 
fast approaching horsemen, then sprang savagely 
upon the knave, that I might end all ere they could 
interfere. I thought it strange that there should be 
so many mounted men ; but I had not time to think 
the reason out — the knave before me occupied my 
mind as well as blade. He met me in hot haste ; his 

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wish was as my own. In a moment he would kill me, 
y?as his thought, I knew. A few passes, and the 
wounded, fever-maddened fool that joined with him 
so bravely would stare at the moon in death. I 
laughed shrilly as I read his thought. 

“ Ha ! ha ! you’re red, my Lord. Watch well this 
bloody blade. Soon it will turn you white. Ha! 
’tis a rare good night for killing, for the air is full 
of blood.” 

Ainge after lunge he flashed, without a heart- 
beat’s intermission ; feint after feint he made — but 
all in vain. My arm was like a fiery thunderbolt. 
It sprang to meet his every stroke. I read each feint 
or trick before it was performed. I chuckled as I 
put his blows aside, and darted out my point like a 
tongue of flame. I knew he could not scratch me, for 
I was but a shadow of myself. I did not fight ; it was 
my soul. My body lay dead in some spot beneath 
the trees, and the spirit of Mark Everard stayed still 
upon the earth to see his work complete. This knave 
should die, I swore, and by my hand. There still 
were obstacles in my way, but I would overcome 
them. I burned from head to foot and suffered these 
great tortures in my brain and heart but that I should 
make haste. I was half in hell, half out. Her per- 
secutors should be blotted from the earth, then I 
should sink to rest. My feet scarce touched the 
earth; but as a shadow I floated in the mist. I 
heard the rush of horses’ feet draw near, then Toby’s 
2i 3 6 9 


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Mark Everard 


* 


shout rang out louder. I pressed my antagonist more 
furiously, and all his thrusts turned into guards. 
His mouth was open now, and I could hear his gasps 
for breath even above the throbbing in my head and 
the crash and screech of steel. 

“ Ha ! look, my Lord, how red you are with blood ! 
A little and you’ll be far redder yet ! ” 

He shrank back step by step ; hut I danced around 
him and cut great arcs of flame about his head. But 
still he did guard him well. He gave no ground 
until his fate was sealed hut for a backward step. 
I saw him try to work his way round, that he might 
get Mistress Heron between us. I laughed and 
shifted as I forced him hack, and balked his cow- 
ard’s plan. I saw something dark a step or two be- 
hind him. I pressed him hard and strained my eyes 
to make out what it was. Presently I saw it clearly. 
’Twas the sun-dial near the house. He shifted a 
little and saw it too. 

“ Mad devil ! ” he gasped, and sprang far back be- 
hind it. 

The horses thundered up and wheeled around us. 
At the same instant I heard Toby shout. 

“ The man that lifts a hand against him dies ! ” 
His breath was almost spent with his long and up-hill 
run. 

“ Stop this mad work ! ” I heard another shout. 
’Twas the voice of him that had called before, and 
bade his men to prevent the Earl’s attack. 

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I looked around to see the man that spoke with 
such authority. Mistress Heron stood by my side, 
her hand held to the rent in her gown. Her face was 
set, and her pose resolute. She was looking up at a 
man that rode a great dark horse. He was the speak- 
er, I could see. He wore what seemed to me a plain 
black masque. That he was the leader could be 
noted at a glance, for the others clustered in a semi- 
circle in the rear. Toby stood next the lady, leaning 
upon his sword and glaring at the band of near a 
score disdainfully. My Lord hung upon the dial 
and gasped for breath. 

I heard the roll of wheels, and turned and peered 
down toward the gate. . . . The coach was coming 
up the drive with an escort of three or four. 

The circumstances had undergone a rapid change. 
I wondered if this masqued man was Sir Charles. I 
could think of none other likely to arrive. The voice 
I had heard before, but it sounded not like his. I 
stared again at the tall dark form, but his masque and 
hat disguised him thoroughly. 

“ My Lord of Cadwaller, you will please to come 
with me,” he said, riding up beside the sun-dial, and 
speaking very low. “ And you, Master Everard, 
will put up your sword. This bloodshed has gone 
too far already.” His voice was calm but cold, and 
he spoke as one well used to be obeyed. Again I 
thought I had heard the voice before, but my ears 
rang and my head swam so that I could not place it. 

3/i 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


“ It is my habit, Sir, to draw my sword and sheath 
it at my command alone. Nor do I permit of inter- 
ference. This — this must die to-night, before the 
moon goes* down. I see him dead already. There’s 
a blade sunk in his heart.” I pointed to the cringing 
Earl, but he only stared up at the horseman. 

Mistress Heron’s arm was trembling against mine ; 
and when he of the masque sprang to the ground and 
stepped toward us, she shrank back partly behind me, 
as though she feared the stranger. 

I raised my point and held him at a distance. 

“ Drop that ! Are you mad ? Do you not know 
me ? ” he demanded in low sharp tones that could not 
reach his men. 

“ Put it down, Sir,” Toby whispered in my ear. 
“ We’ll soon have another chance. Please wait, 
Sir.” 

I looked at Toby sharply, then at the masqued man 
before me, — and let my point sink to the ground. 
There was some mystery here; Toby and the lady 
seemed to know the other. 

“ Will you come to the house, Madam ? ” he said, 
bending low. “ This has been a mad, mad evening, 
I fear. Permit me, Madam.” He held out a long, 
slim hand toward her. 

She shuddered, hesitated, and drew a little farther 
back. 

“ Go,” I whispered. 

She slowly put out her hand and placed the points 

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of her trembling fingers upon his. He smiled and 
turned with courtly grace toward the steps. His men 
all were dismounted now, and bore their horses’ reins 
upon their arms. 

“ My Lord Cad waller will join me in the Hall at 
once,” the masqued man paused to say. 

The lady walked on half-unwillingly, her eyes, still 
wide, turned back to me. 

I seemed to die and come to life with each succeed- 
ing breath. The reddish mist turned black in spots, 
then changed to almost white. I leaned upon my 
blade and gazed my heart out after the two slow-mov- 
ing forms. 

Cadwaller left his post, and, glancing back at me, 
strode quickly in an arc toward the door. 

Again Mistress Heron looked back to where I stood 
with staunch old Toby by my side. I saw her raise 
her hand, I thought; and Toby moved uneasily and 
took my arm. 

“ On, Toby ; we must follow. All seems not over 
yet.” 

We moved on quickly after them, Toby guiding 
my uneven steps 

“ Her lover has arrived at last,” I groaned. 
“ Now may the outcast make his exit gracefully. . . . 
But still there’s Julius,” I muttered. “ Julius is my 
peculiar prey.” 


373 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Upon the steps the masqued gentleman again 
paused for a moment. He turned to one that fol- 
lowed him at the head of the band and beckoned him 
to him. The other went quickly forward and entered 
the house at his heels. The men formed up around 
the door and closed in, as though to prevent us from 
passing. But never am I easily turned aside, so I 
walked straight on until I met with forceful opposi- 
tion. 

“ You may not enter here, Sir,” said a fellow in 
my path. 

At this there was a little uproar, which ended 
when the door again flew open and he that had en- 
tered last put out his head. 

“ Permit these men to pass ! ” he called. “ Strike 
me dead! have you not had blows enough, Master 
Everard ? ” 

“ I still have some to strike, Sir Charles,” I said. 
It was the Baronet. The moon was shining on his 
faice. 

“ Split me ! ” he gasped, as the light from within 
shone in my face. “ What ails you, Sir ? Your 
face is almost purple! ’Od’s life! and the blood! 
You’re soaked in blood all down your side and leg! ” 

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He drew back from me, as though I had been a 
ghost. 

“ Blood !” I laughed. “ Blood!— only blood ? 
And my face, you say, is almost purple? Why 
yours, Sir Charles, is red, quite red. Hist! Sir 
Charles; I’ll tell a secret. There are some about 
that I must kill. When they be dead, I shall no 
longer haunt you. I and my bloody mist shall van- 
ish. But tell me, what is your friend within ? ” 
And without waiting for an answer I floated into the 
room. 

“ Mad as the devil ! Keep your eye on him ; he 
may do a great damage,” I heard him mutter to Toby 
as I passed. 

I smiled at his wisdom and advanced toward the 
table, with Sir Charles and Toby at my heels. 

At one end of the table, with a hand held to her 
bosom, another on the board, Mistress Heron stood; 
at one side was my Lord Cadwaller, and by his side 
stood — the King. 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” the lady gasped, and drew back, shak- 
ing like a willow in a breeze. 

“ ’Slife! ” cried the King, and stepped back too. 

The Earl’s eyes opened wide, and he shifted un- 
easily, but made no sound. 

I bowed, and leaned upon my hilt, smiling at the 
two in satisfaction. The King’s presence came to me 
as a shock, but as a joyous one. He had come to 
me, not I to him. All my work might now be set- 

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* 


* 


tied in one stroke. Sir Charles, his Lordship, and 
the King! Julius was the only missing card. An- 
other shuffle, and I could bring him out. For sev- 
eral moments I stood thus smiling at my fortune, 
while they all stood back transfixed with horror. . , . 
I must have been a sorry sight. 

“ ’Od’s blood ! is this your work, Cadwaller ? ” 
the King cried out. 

“ Ho, your Majesty,” I put in ere the other could 
answer ; “ the Earl was not expert enough. He 
tried only to complete the work of another ; but even 
in that he failed.” I felt my lips still smiling, but 
they did it without my wish. 

“ When did this happen ? ” His voice was sharp, 
and his brows drew together angrily. 

Sometime last night, Sir; after midnight, as I 
think.” 

“ And you have been thus ever since ? — ’Tis mon- 
strous ! ” 

“ Oh, no ! I have been tended with a care far past 
my deserving. But my Lord was something impa- 
tient, and would be moving. But there — all that is 
passed; I have a suspicion that I died an hour 
since.’* 

Mistress Heron moved back unsteadily and sank 
into a chair, her head bowed upon her bosom. 

“ He’s mad ! ” said the King, as to himself. “ See 
him put to bed and well attended,” he turned to Toby 
and directed. 


376 


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<k 


“ First I have work to do ; then I shall bid you all 
a long good-night.” 

Again he looked at me closely, but turned away 
with a shudder. “ To a private room,” he almost 
whispered to my Lord. 

The latter glanced around, then stepped to the door 
of the morning-room, where I had seen the lights 
burning when I broke out from beneath the trees. 

I waited until the door had closed behind them, 
then turned to Toby. “ Guard Mistress Heron well. 
Stand by her side until you hear from me,” I whis- 
pered. 

He looked at me closely, his face drawn with sor- 
row, but he obeyed my order however unwillingly. 

I swayed for a moment, took a step toward the door 
through which the others had passed — and sank heav- 
ily to one knee. Instantly the little man was at my 
side, helping me to my feet. I thanked him with a 
grasp of my hand and motioned him back to the 
lady’s chair. Then with a great effort I held myself 
erect, and walked deliberately to the door, each 
muscle trembling with the strain to keep my knees 
from giving way again. My weight was coming 
back, and as it came my fever-strength forsook me. 

Sir Charles came to my side as I put my hand 
upon the door-knob. “ Better not enter there, Mas- 
ter. Everard. The King is in the devil’s own rage, 
and will not like the intrusion, I assure you.” He 
put his hand upon my arm to restrain me. 

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“ In a rage, Sir Charles!” I laughed. “ Faith, 
he’s like to be in a worse.” I shook his hand from 
my arm. “ And you, Sir Charles — have you busi- 
ness with me still, or have you objections to quar- 
relling with a ghost ? ” I whispered, smiling in his 
face. 

He looked at me pityingly. “ My game, I fear, 
is up.” He shook his head mournfully. “ I know 
it is up so far as you are concerned. The King has 
discovered too much. The Little Duke is out of 
favour, and I am to be sent to France when Madam 
of Orleans shall return home. My efforts to ex- 
pose the plot for the Queen’s abduction were too suc- 
cessful — it showed the part that the Little Duke 
and I have played too plainly. ’Twas a slip I made 
that did it, so I am forced to make a virtue of ne- 
cessity, and go where I am sent. But we have thrown 
Cadwaller from his height. The King now knows 
of all his villainy. But this comes too late to be of 
use to you. Spilt me, but I am sorry, Sir! You 
have played a great part to the end. Though we 
have been on opposing sides, I never have been able 
to subdue my admiration for you. Damn me for a 
fool ! but will you shake my hand before you die, and 
let the past be past? I have lost through my own 
lack of skill; but I believe you would have beaten 
me anyway.” He held his hand, palm up — so 
frankly — to me. 

I leaned against the door-frame, shifted my sword 

37 8 


4 


Mark Everard 


4 


from right hand to left, and took the proffered pledge 
of peace. 

“ Your news come.s too late to save me, as you say ; 
but it will permit me to leave my work complete. 
She shall not be bought and sold, nor confiscated by 
the Crown.” I bent to him and spoke in a voice that 
could not reach her ears. 

“ I think there is no great danger of the last,” he 
whispered. “ The lady of whom I spoke last night 
— Mademoiselle Querouaille — seems assured of the 
Royal favour. This being the case, and considering 
the effect that the discovery of Cadwaller’s treachery 
will have upon the King, ’tis not unlikely that his 
Majesty will be content with his imported beau- 
ty.” 

I felt my teeth clench savagely, but still I smiled. 
“ I will make sure,” I nodded. “ The obstacles are 
fading quickly, but Julius remains. Nothing but 
his death can relieve me there.” 

“ Ah ! was it Julius ? ” 

“ Ay, the dog ! He would have killed her. I 
prevented that, but he escaped. Again to-night he 
sought her life, but by a lucky chance she once more 
escaped. My poor false strength is going fast — but 
he must die. I know not if I live or if I died an 
hour since. A fire burns me up and steals my wits ; 
but yet before I leave, that knave shall die, or he will 
kill her. Now I must hasten and see the King. My 
knees are treacherously giving w T ay, and my heart 

379 


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% 


chokes me with its bubbling. If I am flesh and 
blood, that means the end.” 

“ Farewell, Sir,” he said, watching me uneasily, 
as though to see me fall. “ Before me, I am sorry. 
But rest in peace. If you go before you have had 
your revenge, Fll see to the knave myself. ’Tis a 
duty I owe you, for I set him to dog your steps.” 

“ Ah, so I thought. Farewell, Sir Charles.” My 
brain was reeling and my tongue was growing very 
thick. A longer delay would leave my time too 
short. 

I turned a look upon Mistress Heron. She was 
lying back in her chair, very pale, her eyes closed, 
as though she slept. Toby was at her side, pressing 
a glass of wine to her lips, while the maid, Martha, 
wept and stroked the lady’s hand. 

My senses were becoming very dull, or I had heard 
Martha enter. Before they should forsake me for- 
ever I must see the King. I turned the knob and 
reeled unsteadily into the morning room. 

The King’s back was turned toward the door, as 
he moved slowly down the room, with hands clasped 
behind him and head bent forward thoughtfully. 
Cadwaller stood beside the great mirror near the 
door, his back against the wall, his right hand grasp- 
ing his sword-belt where it passed across his breast, 
while his left was opening and closing quickly. The 
look that he turned on me was filled with a venomous 
hate. His eyes blazed, and his hand stole to his hilt. 

380 


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Mark Everard 


* 


But I only smiled in satisfaction, for his whole ap- 
pearance ‘bespoke the fallen favourite driven to de- 
spair by his ill fortune. He was no longer danger- 
ous, unless one’s back were turned — then beware of a 
thrust between the shoulders ; for so does a desperate 
coward strike. 

“ Yes, Cad waller, you may keep company with 
your friends in France,” said the King, still walk- 
ing from me. “ But remember,” he cried angrily, 
turning quickly as he spoke, “ if I hear of any more 
plotting, the Channel shall not save you; for — ’Od’s 
life ! ” he broke off, as he caught sight of me. “ Your 
madness carries you too far, Master Everard ! Leave 
the room, Sir ! ” 

In the middle of his outburst I had shut the door ; 
and now I stood with my back against it, my eyes 
turning from Cadwaller to him. 

“ Your Majesty will pardon me, I know,” I 
smiled. 

“ You take much for granted, Sir ! ” he snapped. 

“ I have business of importance, Sir.” 

“ It must wait. And while waiting, have the re- 
spect to sheathe your sword.” 

“ A few short moments and my wait is like to be 
a long one, Sir. And as for my sword, I fear to 
look toward its scabbard. My garments there are 
stiff, and make my head to whirl the faster.” 

His face softened a little, and he spoke humour- 


Mark Everard 




4 


ingly. “ Well, well, what is your business ? Be 
brief, for my time is short.” 

“ Have I done my work well, Sir ? ” 

He frowned. “ But too well. One good service 
you have done me ; I am relieved of the duty of pun- 
ishing the treason of Sir Alfred Heron. His death 
is fortunate.” 

I glanced at Cadwaller. He was still glaring at 
me savagely, but his eyes shifted as I looked. 

“ I have no wish to rob my Lord Cadwaller of his 
right. Sir Alfred died not by the blade ; ’twas from 
a stroke, brought on by the revelation of his Lord- 
ship’s plans.” 

The Earl sneered. “ You accuse his Majesty as 
well as me. My plans were his as much as mine." 

The King’s face worked passionately for a mo- 
ment, but he kept his rage within. 

“ Pray proceed, Master Everard,” he said calmly, 
but under great restraint. 

“ I have done my work, Sir ; now I must have my 
reward.” 

“ Must ! I am not used to that word, Sir.” 

“ Ho? ’Tis one of my most common.” 

“ Your madness runs to insolence, it would seem.” 

“ Ho, Sir ; to perseverance.” 

“ When used against me they are one and insepara- 
ble. Be brief. What would you ? ” 

“ A fortnight since I undertook to do you a serv- 
ice. I have finished it.” 


382 


Mark Everard 


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* 


“ ^s, yes ; but what is your request ? ” he snapped 
out impatiently, as I paused for breath. 

u I undertook the service more out of curiosity 
than for aught else. I thought your Majesty was 
more desirous of having Mistress Heron returned to 
you than you were to punish Sir Alfred for his at- 
tack upon the Queen.” 

u *Od’s fish ! ” he broke out, and partly turned 
away. Doubtless such words to the King came as a 
rude shock. 

“ I was not sure, however, and so decided to ac- 
cept your commission, with mental reservations. I 
came here, arrested the persons named in your war- 
rant, and reported to your Majesty, as you know.” 

“ You persist in disregarding my command. What 
is your request ? I ask you for the last time.” 

I went on, without heeding his impatience. “ From 
the moment that I sent you that report, Sir, I have 
been working to defeat your plans. I fought against 
Lord Cadwaller tooth and nail. In that I have won. 
He came armed with the King’s authority — there- 
fore I fought the King. For I saw that Sir Alfred 
was but the dupe of this knave ” (I pointed to the 
Earl), “ and that the charge of attempting abduc- 
tion against him was being used but that the King’s 
wish respecting his daughter might the more easily 
succeed.” 

My Lord moved excitedly. Doubtless he could 
not comprehend such madness. The King swore 

383 


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and walked a few steps from me, but again turned 
when I continued: 

“ I have dared to oppose you, Sir, because you 
were unjust.” 

He laughed aloud. “ ’Slife, Sir, your impu- 
dence lacks not in humour! A soldier of fortune 
lectures his King on justice and morality! Pray 
proceed.” 

“ I merely state facts, your Majesty. I would to 
God they were not ! ’Tis not for me to moralise, 
but yet I hate oppression. The lady in the next 
room has been cruelly oppressed and persecuted be- 
yond endurance. I have made it my work to see 
this cease, and if king or devil stood to oppose, still 
would I stand for justice ! ” 

“ Treason has flourished well, and still shows no 
signs of failing strength. I was wise to bring a 
guard to this nest of traitors! But come, your re- 
quest, pray. Put it in plain terms. ’Od’s life! I 
am curious.” 

“ ’Tis not much, your Majesty. I pray for jus- 
tice only — not a great favour for a King to grant.” 

“ If you had justice you should have a halter, as 
should some others here about.” (He glanced mean- 
ingly at the Earl). “ But I am unjust, you say, so 
you may not be rewarded as you richly deserve.” 

“ Mistress Heron, by the death of her father, is 
now the ward of the King. I pray the King to re- 
lease her — to give her her freedom. And as you 

384 


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* 

still believe that Sir Alfred was a party to tbe plot 
to abduct her Majesty the Queen, I also pray that 
you will take no steps that will cause her a loss of her 
inheritance. ’Tis not too great a favour for a great 
King to grant.” 

“ Nor too great a favour for so loyal a subject to 
demand.” 

“ I always have heard that King Charles is gen- 
erous — almost to a fault.” 

“ Generous to a fault, but unjust,” he again 
sneered, slipping a ring on and off, and watching me 
from beneath sullen brow. “ The virtue and the 
fault seem not well to blend, my master of insult and 
flattery.” 

“ They alternate, Sir.” 

“ And why comes this so small request from you, 
and not from Mistress Heron ? ” He was burning 
with rage, and provokingly amused, which made my 
hopes sink lower. 

“ Mistress Heron has despaired of ever being freed 
from molestation, and she knows not even that what 
her father may have done when living may be brought 
against his estate now that he is dead.” 

“ Oh ! And you have not enlightened her with 
your vast knowledge ? ” 

“ I have come to the King for justice.” 

“ From your own report, you have come to a place 
devoid of what you seek.” 

“ I appeal, then, to your generosity.” 

25 385 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


He took a turn about the room, with hands locked 
behind him, and head upon his breast. 

My brain gave a great mad whirl ; the lights went 
out; the room was black as night. I braced myself 
with my sword, pressing my body back against the 
door, and presently, by force of will, I drove the 
faintness partly from me. Another spell like that 
and I -should go under, I knew. As my ‘sight slowly 
came back I turned, at the voice of a prompting 
within me, to Cadwaller. It is well I did so. He 
had taken a step from the wall, his sword partly 
drawn from its scabbard, and his face grinning in 
anticipated triumph. But when he saw me steady 
myself at last, he slid his blade back slowly and re- 
sumed his former attitude. 

The King stopped suddenly before me and raised 
his head. “ Why does Mistress Heron desire to be no 
longer the war.d of the King ? ” he asked sharply. 
“ You have been advising her, I suppose.” 

“ I have taken the liberty to make this request 
without consulting with Mistress Heron, Sir.” 

“ ’Tis one of your weaknesses to take liberties, it 
would seem.” 

“ ’Tis like, Sir. I, like others, have my failings.” 

“ Really ! And you would make the failings of 
others an excuse for yours ? ” 

“ Ho, Sir. I have asked but that the lady may 
have freedom and justice. For such a request no 
excuse should be necessary.” 


386 


Mark Everard 




4 


“ Indeed ! Yon will pardon me for daring to ex- 
press a contrary opinion/’ he sneered. “ However 
strange it may seem to yon, with your wisdom and 
fine sense of propriety, I must say that I consider 
such a request — as you are pleased to call it — not 
only quite unnecessary, but also outrageously insult- 
ing. I decline to be coerced by a mad ruffian. Ho, 
Sir ! Leave the room ! ” He finished his sarcastic 
speech with head thrown back and arm stretched out 
angrily, as though to thrust me from him. The fact 
that his head was thus thrown back showed me clear- 
ly that he felt far from confident ; for when a man’s 
hair falls back of his shoulders, he will run rather 
than fight. 

“ Still a Stuart ! You use a man until he is of no 
further service, then he is a mad ruffian when he asks 
for his reward. I had hoped for better from Charles 
Second, for he is said to be kind of heart. I was 
deceived, it would seem.” 

“ Silence ! Withdraw instantly or I shall have 
you put under arrest ! ’Od’s blood, what insolence ! ” 

“ Ho, Sir ! ” I snapped back savagely. “ I refuse 
to go ! Until now I have been speaking to the King, 
praying for what it should not be necessary to have ; 
but now I speak as man to man — as Mark Everard 
to Charles Stuart ! Silence ! Call out and you are 
a dead man ! ” 

Cadwaller sprang from the wall, half-drawing his 

sword. 


387 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


“ If the Earl of Cadwaller will come but one step 
nearer I shall take that for the signal to pass my 
sword through the body of Charles Stuart,” I said 
quietly, for I did not wish my voice to reach the hall 
without. 

The King drew back until his hips were pressing 
against the table, hut still I kept my point but a few 
inches from his breast. The Earl stood still, and 
looked puzzled, glancing quickly from me to the 
King. Then his face changed suddenly, and he 
glanced toward the door. 

“ Nor may you go to the door, my Lord,” I whis- 
pered, as I read his thought. “ Toby stands there 
with orders to kill the first man that opens it. If I 
call out he will come, and you both shall be killed. 
I shall tell Sir Charles Hawley and his men that you 
were quarrelling and that we rushed in too late to 
save this gentleman from your sword, so we killed 
you to revenge his death. Sir Charles is not now 
within the house.” (A lie is a pretty good thing 
under certain circumstances). 

The King bit his lips for a moment. “ Do you 
know what this outrage means ? ” he asked very 
quietly. 

“ My death, you would say, I suppose.” 

“ Quite so. The rope.” 

“ No, no,” I smiled. 

“ No?” 


388 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


“ Do I look as though I should live for the tedious 
process of the law ? ” 

“ You may.” 

“ No, Sir ; I am dying or dead already. If I 
were to sit down I never should rise, I know.” 

“ Pray be seated,” he half-smiled. 

“ I have some matters to attend to. When I have 
done I shall comply with your request.” 

“ You are a brave man, but a foolish.” 

“ Unless I mistake, you would do the same, Sir, 
were you in my position.” 

“ You flatter me.” 

“ I hope not.” 

“ What is our next move ? I grow interested.” 

“ There is a writing cabinet in that corner. I de- 
sire but a few lines, which will serve my purpose.” 

“ You are moderate.” 

“ Of necessity I must be brief.” 

“ Pray take your point from my«breast; you sway 
so I fear you will fall against me.” 

“ You will please to make haste, Sir ; I may 
further lose my reason, and so commit an indiscre- 
tion.” 

“ Will you not take my word ? ” 

“ The King’s or Charles Stuart’s ? ” 

“ Which do you prefer ? ” He was still smiling 
as though I amused him. Zooks ! I could but admire 
such a man, were he King or beggar. 

“ Charles Stuart’s.” 


389 


Mark Everard 


* 


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“ ‘ There is method in his madness/ ” he mut- 
tered. “ Well, so be it,” he said aloud. 

“ You give me jour word that jou will make no 
effort to escape or attract the men without ? ” 

“ Yes, jes, I do. ’Od’s fish ! I thought you de- 
sired haste.” 

I lowered my point ; he moved quickly to the cabi- 
net, and began to write. 

I turned again to Cadwaller. He was leaning 
against the wall again, his face showing naught but 
intense surprise. I stepped within a pace of him 
and looked him fairly in the eyes. The King’s back 
was turned to us, but I could watch him in the mir- 
ror, which stood directly before me. As I saw his 
reflection I remembered the strange words that had 
been whispered in my ears a little time before, when 
I carried Mistress Heron from the arbour. “ Watch 
that mirror closely,” the unknown voice had said. 
Whence it came I could not tell. But it was a warn- 
ing, I felt, I should watch. . . . Again I looked 
into Cadwaller’s eyes. He was staring past me and 
down — -in the direction of the table. His eyes were 
bright — almost joyful. I thought it might be a trick 
to induce me to turn my back, so I gave no sign that 
I saw his look. 

“ Your treachery, which should be the cause of 
your destruction, has proved to be your salvation, my 
Lord. Had it not been that the King has found you 
out and banished you secretly, I should have killed 

390 


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Mark Everard 


* 


you, as I must another knave, even blacker than you 
— if you can imagine such a one.” 

“ You talk of villainy ! ” he sneered. “ The man 
that held his sword against the King ! ” 

“Ay, I held my sword against the King, as I 
would against myself, if I were in the wrong.” 

“ More moralising!” He again glanced stealthily 
past me. 

“ You richly deserve your fate ; and I only regret 
that it is not death, as is mine.” 

“ And I only regret that I am not to have the 
pleasure of sending you to yours. But, you see, you 
take refuge behind petticoats, which are a great pro- 
tection, you will admit.” He seemed to be speaking 
slowly for a purpose, and he kept his eyes lowered, 
as though continuing his stealthy glances past me. 

I said nothing for a moment, but took a sly glance 
into the mirror to see if I could discover the thing 
that so drew his Lordship’s eyes. 

The King still was seated at the desk, and the 
scratching of his pen came to my ears distinctly. 
Another sound I thought I heard, a very faint rus- 
tle, but I was not sure. I turned my eyes to Cad- 
waller again — and as they swept across the lower 
part of the glass I felt my thumping heart stand still, 
then rush again into its mad beating with a re- 
doubled fury. My teeth clenched firmly, my head 
swam more giddily, I swayed to and fro more un-i 
steadily, and the red mist again „ floated before^ my 


Mark Everard 


♦ 


* 


eyes. There, crouched by the end of the table, from 
under which he had just crawled, but three paces 
behind me, the knife that had bitten me once already 
clutched in his bony fist, was that devil in human 
form — Julius. His eyes were blazing like those of 
an angry cat, his hair w T as tossed wildly about his 
deathly face, and his lips were drawn back in the 
grin of a nightmare. 

“ Ah,” I thought, “ my Lord thinks he has found 
a useful ally. Well may he glance slyly past me. 
Murdering dog, my revenge is coming quickly.” I 
ground my teeth, but propped myself firmly with 
my sword and waited with expectancy. 

“ The Earl Cadwaller would for the third time 
make himself a murderer,” I whispered very low. 

He looked up quickly, startled and trembling from 
a guilty conscience. 

“ Wh — what do you mean ? ” he stammered. 

I smiled in his frightened face. “ You would 
have me to believe that there is something behind 
me, which I should see, and if I should look, you 
would pass your coward’s blade between my shoul- 
ders.” 

My words deceived him, as I meant they should. 
His look of fear passed off, and he lowered his head, 
and, I made no doubt, peered at the crouching fiend, 
who was stealing nearer. I kept an eye on him in 
the glass. His stare of hate was fixed upon my 
.back — he evidently thought not of the mirror. He 

392 


Mark Everard 


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* 


was rising slowly and silently as lie crept forward, 
his hideous grin becoming broader and fiercer as he 
came. For an instant he turned his look upon the 
floor, as though to measure the distance still separat- 
ing him from his prey, then on he stole with the si- 
lence of a shadow, his eyes again fixed upon the mid- 
dle of my hack. I took a quick look at Cadwaller. I 
thought I saw him nod. Back to the glass I glanced. 
The devil was now but one pace distant. The King 
scratched heavily and quickly upon the paper — and 
I knew it must be his signature. I heard his chair 
slide back as he rose. Still I kept my half-blind eyes 
glued to the kindly glass. The black devil wa3 
scarce a foot away. At the sound of the King’s ris- 
ing he sprang to his full height, flashed back his 
knife above his shoulder, and hurled himself with 
his whole weight forward. 

“ There, Hell take you ! ” he snarled as his knifo 
flew at my back. 

“ Beware ! ” the King shouted, and rushed toward 
us. 

But I did not need the warning. As the murderer 
was almost upon me I sprang quickly to one side, well 
clear of his savage knife. I heard a heavy blow, a 
groan, and a snarl of rage ere I could raise my point. 
I stood well back, staring down at the struggling 
mass that had sunk heavily to the floor. For but a 
moment it struggled, then the knife sprang up again 
— but there it paused. Julius had realised his mis- 

393 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


take. Until then he had been so blinded by his hate 
and the seeming certainty of his revenge that he had 
not discovered that the man into whose heart he had 
plunged his knife was not Mark Everard — hut the 
Earl of Cadwaller. 

With the snarl of a maddened dog he sprang from 
the body of his victim and faced me with features 
twitching and working horribly. He took one step 
toward me, his body crouched as though set for a 
spring ; but my point was ready, and he cringed back 
a little, as I leaned, swaying, forward, smiling my 
satisfaction. 

Hot for an instant did I take my eyes from him, 
for it was a desperate dog, which now would take any 
mad chance. Watching the assassin so closely, I 
could not see the King, but I heard excited breathing 
coming from a few paces off, about equidistant from 
Julius and me. The red mist still was before my 
eyes; naught in the room could I see but the pros- 
trate form of Cadwaller, which was twitching in its 
last struggle against dissolution, and the snarling 
devil with the knife and blazing eyes. 

“ At last, Julius, at last ! ” I grinned. “ The wheel 
of justice turns very slowly, but in its own good time 
it makes a circle. Come, Julius, you must die.” I 
drew my blade back slowly as I spoke, and took a 
step toward him. 

He cringed from me and shot a sharp glance at 
the King. His eyes took on a cunning look, squint- 

394 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


in g a little and dancing like those of a fox surrounded 
by the hounds. Some plan was in his head — a des- 
perate plan. I thought I read it. Another step 
would prove me right or wrong. I took it — a short 
one. Yes, I was right. Again he cringed from me, 
and gained almost a pace. He was working his way 
toward the King. 

“ Ah ! ” I thought, “ so that is your plan.” I 
glanced toward his Majesty. He was standing be- 
side the table and watching the tragedy with a horri- 
fied fascination. Julius was much nearer to him 
than was I. A ruse must be devised, or the crazed 
dog might do a thing that would fill the world with 
horror. 

I heard a commotion at the other side of the door. 
Zooks ! Mistress Heron’s voice was there — she wajs 
demanding admission ; and I think it was Sir Charles 
that remonstrated. Zounds ! I made it out now. 
She was weeping and coaxing to be permitted to pass. 
I must act before she should enter, or there might be 
another tragedy! A growl from Toby came to me 
once or twice. He seemed trying to persuade the 
lady to remain. 

“ Kay, I pray, Madam,” he said. “ You may ruin 
all if you enter. He is able to take care of himself, 
I. assure you.” 

“ Ho, no ; I heard him fall ! Why, why are you 
all against him ? I must, I will, pass ! ” Her voice 
was strained and desperate. 


395 


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* 


* 


While this was progressing I was acting. It all 
was done in the counting of a score. I let my eyes 
half-close, my point slowly sink to the floor, swayed 
more unsteadily than before, and staggered back a 
step, reaching my hand out blindly, as though seek- 
ing a support. But all the while I watched the mur- 
derer’s feet from under drooping lids. 

The trick worked; he took a step toward me. I 
swayed more, staggered and lurched helplessly to one 
side. The King wakened from his trance and took 
a hasty step toward me. But Julius was before him. 
Catlike, silently, he took another cautious step, then 
drew himself together and made his murderous 
spring. 

The King shouted, drew his sword and rushed in. 

“ Ha, hell-bound, it is finished ! ” My blade was 
through the murderous dog, until the hilt struck 
heavily against his breast. His knife dropped harm- 
lessly by my side; his hands and mouth opened and 
closed strainingly ; his eyes rolled fearfully from side 
to side; his knees weakened; he swayed for a mo- 
ment to and fro, clutched madly at my arm, and sank 
slowly to his knees — but still I did not draw out my 
steel. 

The door flew open ; Mistress Heron, wild-eyed 
and with hair dishevelled, rushed in, Toby, with 
drawn sword, at her side, while Sir Charles stood 
upon the threshold. 

But one look the lady gave to the scene of horror, 

396 


Mark Everard 


4 


4 


then, with a gasp, staggered back upon Toby’s 
arm. 

Julius sank to his side, still clutching at my hilt. 
I drew the blade quickly from him. He raised a 
hand, still clawing, toward me, coughed horribly once 
or twice, drew up his knees, stretched them partly 
out, wriggled, trembled, and lay still. 

“ Take the lady to the next room. She should not 
have seen this sight.” ’Twas the King that spoke. 
He stepped quickly to her side, as though to her as- 
sistance. 

Ere he reached her I stood between them, swaying 
upon my sword, and facing the King respectfully, 
but determinedly. 

“ What now ? ” he asked in surprise, drawing back 
a little. 

I put out my hand unsteadily toward him. 

“ Oh ! ” He smiled and handed the document to 
me. Charles Stuart could keep his word, it seemed, 
though the King of England could not. 

I turned to Mistress Heron. Her hand was 
clenched upon her bosom, her face pale and colour- 
less, and she shook from head to foot, as from an 
ague. 

“ Your freedom, Madam,” I said thickly. “ My 
work is done. I swore by God that I would save 
you. I have redeemed my pledge. The King is a 
generous gentleman, — as the whole world knows. 
They have maligned him that say he would — oppress 

397 


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Mark Everard 


* 


the weak. You are no longer the ward of the Crown, 
but his Majesty will see to it that you never again — 
shall be molested. I have caused you much alarm 
and pain, Madam, in the — management of this af- 
fair; but I can only — pray to be excused because 
of — my untimely weakness. I have lived in a hard 
World, but there are — two weeks of my life — I would 
live again. But I have fought the darkness — past 
my strength. It closes in. Before I go, I would 
cry — God save the King — from such another night — 
as this ! ” 

All was black before me now. I felt that I was 
dying, that my soul was floating off through dark- 
ness — away from her. 

I heard an oath; it sounded low and sympathetic. 
Yes, and then came Toby’s gruff clearing of his 
throat. And hark! Zounds! that was my lady’s 
weeping. I’d swear she was calling me back. 

“ ’Tis a strange dark place,” I whispered through 
the black distance ; “ but I’ll try to behold you — 
when you sit — in the arbour — of an — evening.” 

“ ’Od’s blood ! that’s one man in a million.” 
’Twas the King’s voice. 

Those were the last words that reached me through 
the gloom. 


398 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Two months of struggling against death, and at 
last the hold he had upon me slackened and fell off. 
Robust as had been my body, it had but withstood 
the raging of the fever — that was all. For another 
fortnight I was as helpless as a child. Then slowly 
but steadily I began to gain my strength, until at 
last, three months after the day on which the devil 
had taken his own, I found myself, after much plead- 
ing, seated in the arbour beside the little stream. 

And for this calling back from the grave, into 
which I had felt myself sinking, I was indebted to a 
lady fairer than any that has gone before or will 
come after, and kinder than even a man’s selfish 
heart could hope. Despite the efforts of the learned 
physician, despite the attention of Mistress Clin- 
ton — Mistress Heron’s aunt from Canterbury — , and 
Toby’s never-tiring watches, I never should have 
come through, I know, but for my lady’s gentle kind- 
ness. For all this I could not thank her. Many 
times I tried, but my heart was full to overflowing, 
and when I would try to stammer out some broken 
words of gratitude, she always would stop me with a 
threat to vanish, not to come again. 

But at last came the day, as I have said, when my 

399 


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* 


* 


watchful nurse permitted me to sit beneath the trees 
beside the stream, among the flowers and the shrubs, 
where on that first morning she had given me her 
confidence and I had made my vow, and where, since, 
so much of moment had occurred. Now I was re- 
solved that she should hear my gratitude. Whether 
she would or not, she should see that I was grateful ; 
that despite the roughness of my nature, I was not 
what my outside might proclaim — a man of stone, 
without a heart. But careful I should be not to go 
too far, for I had not forgotten who I was nor what 
her station. I was still Mark Everard, an adven- 
turer, who had had the honour of rendering a service 
to the noblest heart that beats; and she was still the 
fairest creature in the world, the kindest, and most 
pure ; and she was grateful for the service I had ren- 
dered, and thought it greater than it was. I should 
crush my vanity, and not read wrong her acts and 
manner; they sprang from her gratitude and kind- 
ness — that was all. 

Seated upon the same rustic bench as on that first 
morning, with the same surroundings — the leaves a 
little larger — , the sun peeping through here and 
there in the same spots, the bees humming over the 
same heaps of flowers, and the same white-robed 
maiden facing me, it was hut with an effort that I 
could shake off the thought that the time was the 
same, that the morning was still the third of 
May. 


400 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


For a long time I sat dreaming and taking in the 
perfect picture, my thoughts turning back to what 
they had been more than three months before. 

“ More than three months since,” I mused. 
“ Zooks ! it seems but a day. And yet — and yet my 
life before that day is as a faint old memory, a story 
from the long, long past. Ah, dreams, dreams ! ” I 
sighed. “ I must shake them off, and force myself 
back into that mouldy and rough old past.” 

I looked up quickly, as one that had come to a sud- 
den resolve. 

She dropped her eyes, and had a blossom in frag- 
ments instantly, and still she plucked at it vigor- 
ously. And she blushed — yes, I should swear to it ! 

I pulled at my mustaches thoughtfully and 
watched her. 

“ I wonder if I spoke aloud,” I worried. “ Zooks ! 
I believe I did. Hum ! back at my old tricks, eh. I 
must stop that.” 

Her manner seemed unnatural to-day. She was 
more reserved — not haughty nor cold, but almost 
timid and ill at ease. All the courage and independ- 
ence that had been hers on that first morning, and 
afterward through the two terrible days, were gone, 
and left her almost fearful. 

“ What startled you ? ” she asked presently, with- 
out looking up. 

“ When ? ” 

“ When ? Why, but now.” 

26 


401 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


“ Did I start ? ” My heart failed me for a mo- 
ment. 

She smiled. 

“ Oh, yes! ” I plunged in determinedly. “ I just 
decided that, now that I am recovered, I must he 
stirring. Three months! ’Tis a long time for me 
to be idle.” I had not the courage to look at her. 
I tried to speak lightly, but my eyes turned off across 
the little stream. 

She said no word, but I heard her move. 

“ And now that I must leave,” I went on boldly, 
“ that that causes me most thought is, how can I tell 
you my gratitude for the great and many kindnesses 
you have shown me? My tongue, Madam, is not 
trained so well as my sword, and I fear I may give 
offence by my clumsiness. I am but a rough, quar- 
relsome soldier, without skill in putting my feelings 
into words ; and so I pray you ” 

“ Stop ! stop ! ” she cried. “ Speak not to me of 
gratitude! What little it has been my privilege to 
do during your illness I am thankful for. You have 
saved me from death and worse — much, much worse 
— and then you speak of gratitude ! You have offered 
your life for me I know not how often — and yet you 
speak of gratitude ! Oh, please, please say no more ! 
By a miracle you have been saved from death, and 
have suffered so, so much — and then you speak of 
gratitude! What you have borne for me I cannot 
fully realise, but though ? tis such a debt as I never 

402 


Mark Everard 






can hope to thank you for, yet I regret not the in- 
debtedness. To such a — friend ’tis an honour to be 
a de-debtor.” She was greatly agitated, and the 
tears stood in her eyes when she ceased to speak. 

I pulled at my upper lip perplexedly. I felt any- 
thing but comfortable. Zooks ! what if I had been 
almost killed in fighting against her enemies ? What 
man would not have done the same? What is a 
soldier’s business if not to die ? Zounds ! I felt like 
a fool. That she should think she owed aught to me 
was too absurd. I would go through ten times as 
much, to hear from those red lips one little word of 
sympathy. 

“ But come,” she smiled presently, “ we must not 
speak of those fearful days and nights. They are 
past, but not sufficiently remote to contemplate with- 
out a gloom descending. Come, come, we must be 
gay or you never shall recover. And that you may 
be at ease and feel secure, wuthout thoughts of flight 
disturbing, I now shall show you this.” From be- 
hind her back she drew a neatly folded paper, and 
with a look of vast importance, and eyes sparkling 
merrily, she handed it to me. 

“ It looks like a warrant,” I laughed. “ You 
should place your hand upon my shoulder, and say: 
‘ Ahem ! In the King’s name I ’ ” 

“ Pardon your monstrous sins ! ” she broke in, 
springing to her feet. 

“ What ! All ? Oh, no ! this paper is too little. 

403 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


’Twould take a volume to name them. This must 
be a petty offence.” 

“ Read, read, read ! ” she commanded, pointing 
imperatively to the still folded paper. “ How 
wicked you would make yourself! But, consider- 
ing the reputation you give to Master Everard, I 
find that I cannot take his word for it. I therefore 
prefer what I learn from another source. And 
Toby’s story is so different ! ” She was laughing 
now. Again she was her own self. Zooks ! I should 
be careful. I felt my danger when I looked into 
those laughing eyes, so beautiful, so tempting in 
their tenderness. 

“ I’ll choke Toby,” I muttered. 

“ Choke Toby ! I believe you would rather 
choke — say — even Martha.” 

I shifted uneasily. I remembered well the time 
when I should have liked to choke Martha. 

“ You must speak more respectfully of Toby, Sir ; 
we have become fast friends. The poor, gruff, little 
man grew ten years older when he watched you strug- 
gling between life and death.” 

“ But yet, he has maligned me,” I frowned, with 
as good a show of seriousness as I could muster. 

“ Maligned you ! ” 

“ Ay, Madam ; he would make you to believe me a 
saint.” 

“ Oh ! ” she laughed. “ But have no fear, Sir ; 


404 


Mark Everard 


* 


♦ 


even Toby could not make me to think so falsely of 
you” 

“ Ah ! I feel reassured,” I smiled. 

“ Such a relief ! is it not ? But come, Sir, read, 
read ! ” She stamped her foot. 

I opened the important-looking manuscript as di- 
rected. 

“ But it is addressed to you, Madam.” 

“ Yes, yes ; hut read.” 

It was a letter. I glanced at the signature. My 
eyes grew wide in surprise. It was from the King. 
It was dated at Whitehall, in the end of May, and 
after the formal greeting, ran thus : 

“ Should it chance that he that lies near to death 
at Heron Hall he restored to health, it is my wish 
that you make known to him that the King can he 
generous sans necessity. Brave and honest men are 
so rare that it would he a monstrous folly to reduce 
their number by as much as one. I trust, therefore, 
that you, Madam, will rid me of a hold enemy and 
find me a staunch friend, which, I doubt not, you can 
accomplish without great labour.” 

I sat silent for some moments after reading these 
lines. 

“ No man is wholly had, it would seem,” I said 
presently. “ Charles Stuart might have been a man 
of few faults, had he not had a King for a father.” 

“ But why are you not glad with such news ? I 
thought to give you so great and happy a surprise ! ” 

405 


Mark Everard 




* 


Her voice and manner were reproachful, and her lips 
quivered, I thought. 

“ And you have surprised me, Madajn. Surprise 
has tied my tongue and prevented me from thanking 
you. I ” 

“ Thanking me! ” she broke in. “ Will you never 
cease thanking me ? You thank me for everything — 
even for what you have done for me. Hot another 
word of thanks will I hear, Sir ! ” 

I fought with my heart, hut a few words escaped 
me. “ Ah, but you are so kind, so kind ! ” I almost 
groaned. 

She laughed uneasily. “ And have I always been 
so kind ? ” she leaned forward and asked very gently. 

My eyes fell before hers, and I grasped the arm 
of the seat to restrain myself. 

“ Always,” I said with trembling voice. 

Again she laughed uneasily. “ Do you remember 
the first morning you were here? Do you remem- 
ber when you found me at the little bridge ? ” 

Remember ! God ! would I ever forget it ? “ Ay, 
Madam,” I answered as calmly as I could, poking 
holes in the grass with my scabbard’s point the while. 

“ Ah ! was I so kind then ? ” she mocked. 

I tried to break the dangerous course into which 
the conversation had drifted, by laughing. 

“ Do you remember how kind and gentle I was ? ” 
she persisted. 

“ Ah ! you did let me see your temper that morn- 

406 


Mark Everard 


4 


ing. Zooks ! at first you would give no quarter. My 
surprise when I discovered you standing upon the 
great stone left me open to your sharp attack. Oh, I 
was fortunate to come off so well! Once I had a 
mind to run.” 

“ Oh, oh ! was I so terrible ? ” 

“ Terrible, I assure you ! ” 

“ And yet, so kind ! ” she laughed. 

“ Well, no, not at first,” I admitted unwillingly. 
“ But afterward you more than made up for your 
justifiable ill-humour by your confidence.” 

“ Oh, how I hated you at first ! ” she volunteered. 
“ My looks are against me, I will admit.” Of 
late this had become a tender point with me. 

She was silent. I did not dare to look at her ; but 
I suspect she laughed. And then, like a fool, I grew 
bitter. I thought of the barriers that kept me from 
her, how forbidding they were, and how the last three 
months had made made it impossible for me ever to 
be content with my old life again. 

“ But my appearance is in harmony with my life 
and work,” I continued almost roughly. “ My life 
has been harsh-featured, stern, and cold; so why 
should I not conform with it ? ” 

“ And why all this abuse and gloominess, pray ? 
Did another dare hint at such slander — oh ! 
‘ Zooks ! ’ you would cry, and that dear old sword 
would leap from its scabbard of its own accord ! 
Come, come, I shall listen to such words no more. 

407 


Mark Everard 


If you become gloomy in the arbour, back to your 
bed you shall go, Sir. Remember, you are out con- 
ditionally.” 

“ Forgive my ill temper,” I asked sincerely ; “ I 
am but a growling ingrate, who ” 

“ Silence, Sir ! I have scarcely finished scolding 
you for your offence, when you attempt to excuse it 
by repeating it with greater vehemence.” 

I put my hand over my mouth and laughed with 
my eyes. 

“ Yes, that is ever so much better than abusive 
words. You may not remove your hand until you 
have some thing pleasant to say.” She shook her 
head solemnly and held up a finger to give her words 
greater weight. 

For several moments I was silent, faithfully obeying 
orders. Presently, however, I caught sight of some- 
thing that sent a thrill through my veins — a thrill 
that stirred my heart more than a greater thing might 
have stirred it. Instantly it was the third of May 
once more. I smiled as though I had found a long- 
lost friend. I raised my hat to greet him, but I had 
not the heart to strike. It was the same old butterfly 
that I had chased more than three months before. 
How do I know ? Why, of course I know ! I never 
forget a face. And what is more, he recognised me ! 
Yes, I swear it ! For until he saw me raise my hat, 
he bobbed along carelessly, up and down, from side 
to side, but steadily coming on, greedily eyeing the 

408 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


flowers in Mistress Heron’s hand ; bnt the moment my 
hand left my month and moved toward my head, he 
dodged hack quickly, sailed higher, until he floated 
a little above and behind a rose-hush. How what 
other butterfly would have had the wisdom to take 
such a refuge ? Oh, I am convinced that he remem- 
bered the trick he had played on me before. 

“ Well, well, well ! My old friend is still alive ! ” 
I cried. 

“Yes, that tone is quite satisfactory. You may 
remain out-of-doors. But where is your friend, 
pray ? ” 

“ There. He is in hiding behind that rose-bush. 
He fears another campaign against him, I doubt 
not.” 

“ Who is it ? ” She turned to look, then glanced 
perplexedly at me, half-smiling and doubting my 
truthfulness. 

Again he dodged into view, taking a sly peep past 
one side of the hush. 

“ Oh ! ” the lady laughed, “ and is this your 
friend % How do you recognise him ? ” 

“ There, I’m sure you have wounded his feelings ! 
See, he is again in hiding. How could I fail to 
recognise him ? His like is not in the park. How,” 
I added, “ if he’s as vain as he looks, that should 
fetch him out.” 

“ Admirable ! ” she approved, as the butterfly 


409 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


danced into view and came sailing toward us. 
“ He’s a perfect Malvolio ! ” 

I may be a fool, but as I sat watching that purple 
butterfly a lump rose in my throat. I thought of 
that morning, months before, of the exciting days 
that followed, and of my weeks of sickness; and in 
all these pictures that came before my memory’s eye 
the dear lady before me stood out in lines of courage, 
beauty and tenderness. How dear she had be- 
come to me in those months! Yes, from the first 
day I now knew I had worshipped her. Yet all 
would be of the past. In a few days I should be 
able to travel. Ho excuse had I to remain longer. 
Back into what now looked like savagery I should go 
to cherish her in my heart as the angel of a dream. 
And she would know nothing of the love that gnawed 
my soul out. She would think of me as a friend — 
an odd sort of a friend, mayhap, — with whom she 
had gone through great troubles and, yes, some happy 
hours. But not once would she think of love. Oh, 
no! — for she loved someone else. Surely she must 
love someone else, for she was made to love. 

“ Who can he be ? ” I wondered. “ What is he 
like? Ah! young, handsome, graceful, and a man 
of fine speech — as different from me as day from 
night. But he is unworthy, whoever he may be; 
for who could be worthy of her? Ha! why could 
not a better face and manner have been given me? 
Gad ! Cadwaller was right ; I do look like a brigand. 

410 


* 


Mark Everard 




The devil take me ! ” I snarled in sudden, childish 
rage, and stamped a hole in the grass with my heel. 

“ Oh, you frightened him away ! ” the lady cried. 
“ He had just decided to taste of this bunch of 
flowers. And what is this ? More ill temper ? 
You are past redemption ! ” She shook her head 
resignedly. “ But what’s amiss ? Come, tell me 
all about it.” She leaned back in her seat, with 
eyes half-closed, dark red lips pouting temptingly, 
and her whole face half-smiling, as though humour- 
ing a discontented child. 

My heart beat faster and my head swam as I looked 
upon her beauty. Zounds ! such temptation was too 
great. I tried to turn my eyes away, but they would 
not. She saw my look, and must have read it, but 
she only smiled the more temptingly, and her full 
bosom rose and fell more quickly. 

“ Come, tell me of what troubles you,” she repeated 
very low. 

I clenched the arm of the seat and struggled with' 
my heart. I saw my danger, and was sure she could 
not have the least suspicion of what my trouble was. 
I was determined I would not so abuse her sympathy 
and kindness as to let her know my secret ; for then 
we both should be unhappy — now there was but one 
that suffered. But I felt that this was the fight of 
my life — Mark Everard had met his match. Despite 
me my lips parted and the words escaped; but I 
fought with my voice to make it calm. 

411 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


“ I — I must return to London,” I stammered. 

She still smiled, but more irresistibly than ever, 
for her colour heightened, adding beauty to the 
already perfect. And I had thought to see some 
little sign of regret, at least. My heart grew bitter 
quickly, but with the next breath I felt my will melc- 
ing before those half-closed eyes, the sweetly pouting 
lips, and swelling bosom. 

“ When ? ” she asked gently. 

“ To-morrow — to-day — now ! ” 

She was startled by this outburst. She sat erect 
quickly, stared at me for but a moment, then bowed 
her head and resumed her occupation of pulling 
the blossom into pieces. But from the part of her 
face that I saw I should be almost willing to swear 
she was smiling again. . . . Still, her breathing was 
faster. 

“ Wh — why ? ” she stammered. 

“ Ah, she does regret it ! ” I whispered to myself. 

“ Why ? ” she almost whispered, after a little 
silence. 

For the shortest time imaginable she raised her 
eyes, then instantly they fell again ; but the time was 
long enough to steal my remaining will. 

“ Because — because I — I love the sweetest, kind- 
est, noblest lady in the world! Ah, Heaven, how 
I love her ! ” I whispered hoarsely. “ Her like 
the world never has seen before, nor will again. Ah, 
she is so beautiful, so bright and young, and so, so 

413 


* 


Mark Everard 


* 


kind ; and all unconscious of her virtues ! And I 

I have dared to love such an angel ! Upon my 
honour, his absurd ! But she knows not that I love 
her, Madam — mayhap she would laugh if she should 
learn of it ; and that would kill me. A sword-thrust 
were better. Yes, I know she would laugh, and with 
good right. ’Tis monstrous presumption in me to 
love her ; but it is not my fault. God knows I fought 
it, fought it, fought it, hut still it grew and thrived 
with opposition ! But she knows not of it, nor even 
suspects that I could he so mad as to hope to pluck a 
star from out the sky. N or shall she ever know — 
lest she should laugh. 

Upon my soul, I thought I saw a tear fall to her 
hand ! 

“ And why — why do you think she would laugh ? ” 
she asked very gently. “ Can such a love cause 
laughter ? If so, she — she is heartless and — un- 
worthy.” 

“ Unworthy! No, she is an angel! ” 

“ Then she could not laugh at love.” 

“ No, mayhap not from someone not so far be- 
neath her as I ! ” 

“ And pray why are you beneath her ? ” Yes, I 
am sure the cheek I saw was smiling. “ You are of 
gentle birth, untarnished honour, and courage greater 
than any other.” 

“ To my birth I shall not object, though birth has 
little to do with a man; honour — not so little as to 

4^3 


4 


Mark Everard 


4 


cause avoidance; and courage — up to the average. 
But what are these where love is concerned? My 
lady would demand a young gentleman, a handsome 
face, and a tongue well schooled to converse on gentle 
topics. And I ” 

“ Yes, pray go on.” 

“ And I have none of these qualifications.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ I am of but middle height.” 

“ Tall!” 

“ Too thick-set and awkward.” 

“ Square and soldierly.” 

“ I am harsh-featured.” 

“ Strong and determined.” 

“ And my tongue is rough, and more used to oaths 
than gallantry.” 

“ Straightforward and sincere.” 

“ And to crush the last spark of hope, I am fifteen 
years her senior.” 

“ And very proper it is.” 

I wondered if she laughed at me. She looked sin- 
cere, but there was a twinkle of merriment in her 
eyes. 

“ So you see, Madam, why my heart is heavy. 
With such an array of obstacles, is it any wonder ? ” 

“ You have shown me no obstacles.” 

“ What ! ” 

“ I brushed aside, one by one, all the imaginary 
objections you raised.” 


414 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


I laughed bitterly. “ Little does she dream of 
whom I speak/’ I muttered to myself. 

“ And she is vastly rich.” 

“ She should be thankful.” 

“ Ah ! but not so I.” 

“ I fear you do not know your lady. Surely she 
is not as you paint her! First, she is not an angel, 
but very human; and next, she is not so foolish as 
to think soft words and well-turned phrases bespeak 
a noble gentleman; they rather bespeak the prac- 
ticed courtier, of whom beware. Ah, Sir, I am sure 
you have misread her ! ” 

I shook my head sadly. “ Could you but see her 
as I see her ! Ah, she is an angel ! You do not 
know her. She does not know herself.” 

She laughed, a little uneasily, I thought. “ I 
know her thoroughly.” 

“ What ! You know her — you — Madam ? ” 

“ Yes, I — that is — ah, I know what she must be 
like; all maidens are alike,” she stammered. 

“ Oh ! ” I sighed. “ But no — you wrong her ; 
for she differs from all others of her sex as ” 

“ As ‘ one star differeth from another/ ” she in- 
terrupted. 

“ Nay, as the sun differs all other lights.” 

“ Ah, ah, you know her not ! If she be a woman, 
a word of love will reach her ear.” 

“ I dare not speak to her of love.” 

“ Mark Everard not dare ! ” 


415 




Mark Everard 


* 


“ Ho, I dare not cause her pain. And so — I must 
go to London / 5 

I am sure I saw her tremble. 

“ Is she — is she in London ? 55 she asked very 
faintly. 

I clutched the seat still tighter, hut the words were 
drawn from me one by one. 

“ Ho, Madam, — no ; I go — not to London, that I 
may — see her — but — but that I may — may escape 
from a temptation greater than my strength. Oh, 
God, I am beaten ! You force me to speak ! She is 
not in London, but here, here, here ! 5 Tis you I love ! 
5 Tis you I worship ! How, now I have wounded you ! 
Forgive me, but I could not help it! I could not! 
I could not! God forgive me for an ingrate! I 
have abused your hospitality and kindness! For- 
give me! Forgive me ! 55 I threw myself upon my 
knees before her and buried my face in my hands^ 
My heart was wrung with love and anguish — love for 
the fairest creature on God 5 s earth, and anguish for 
the pain my mad confession would cause her. 

“ And what — what shall I forgive you, love ? 
Shall I forgive the noblest heart on earth because 
he thinks me worthy of his love ? My brave, noble, 
great-hearted hero ! 55 Her voice shook and came in 
an almost whisper. 

My brain swam and my body trembled as her 
gentle fingers strayed through my hair caressingly. 

“ And you feared — you feared that your love* 

416 


Mark Everard 


* 


V% 


would wound me, dear? Ah, how little you have 
read my heart ! Your love has made you blind, love, 
or you had seen my love in every glance. And you 
saw it not, nor heard it in my faintest word ? All ! 
it was there, dear. With every breath it went out 
to you — to the King of my little kingdom here.” 
With one hand she brushed the hair hack from my 
forehead, the other she held to her heart. Her 
lovely eyes were filled with tears; her voice was 
scarcely audible, but sweet, ah ! sweet as the song of 
an angel. 

For a time I could not speak; my heart leaped and 
my throat ached with a joy that hound my tongue and 
filled my eyes to overflowing. Slowly, fearfully, lest 
I should wake and find my happiness a mocking 
dream, I raised my trembling hands toward the 
blushing, smiling, lovely face. My fingers lost them- 
selves in the falling coils of soft, dark hair ; tenderly 
they touched the shapely, perfect head ; gently, 
slowly she bent to me, her eyes looking into my soul. 

“ Sweetheart, — sweetheart, — darling,” I whispered 
brokenly. 

Her quivering eyelids closed ; her trembling fingers 
pressed my cheeks; the full red lips parted gently, 
and with a little gasp of love, pressed, warm and 
soft, against my own. 

“ Sweetheart, is it, is it real ? ” 

“ Real, love, real, and everlasting ! But I fear 
you made me unmaidenly when you made me force 

417 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


you to speak. Ah, I have been very bold, I 
fear ! ” 

I laughed and kissed her hands. “ But how could 
I know that you could love me, sweetheart ? When 
despite my will, the words sprang from my heart, I 
suffered torture lest I had caused you pain. The 
world was so dark then, sweetheart, and now I 
tremble with joy.” 

I held her close in my arms, and her fingers still 
ran through my hair. 

“ And you did not suspect my love, dear ? ” she 
whispered. 

“ For me? Ah, no; I thought it pity.” 

“ Then I — I had a great advantage,” she smiled, 
blushing more deeply and dropping her eyes. 

“ An advantage ? What ! You guessed ? ” 

“ You told me all, and so, so sweetly ! In your 

fever you spoke of none but me, dear. And I ” 

she paused, drew my head closer, and whispered very 
low: “I — I kissed you. Was it — was it — very 
bold?” 

“ Very,” I reproved. “ And the only way you can 
make restitution is by permitting me to return your 
kisses.” 

She laughed and patted my cheek. “ But you 
forced me to kiss you. You would not remain quiet 
unless I held your hand or stroked your head, 


“ Kissed me ? ” 


418 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


Her head nodded several times rapidly, and her 
eyelids remained drooped. 

“ Come, sweetheart, you must pay your debts,” I 
whispered. 

She threw her arms around my neck in an outburst 
of tenderness, and the tears of happiness fell hot upon 
my cheek. 

A deep gruff voice, raised high in song, came float- 
ing through the trees and flowers from a little way up 
the winding walk. I started and hurriedly took my 
seat beside my sweetheart. 

“ Mark, it is dear old Toby. This is the first time 
1 ever have heard him sing. Is it not strange that 
he should come singing so light-heartedly just now? 
It is as though he knew of our happiness. And, 
hark ! it is the May-pole song. Ah ! do you remem- 
ber when last we heard it, dear ? ” 

“ Kemember ! ? Tis engraven on my heart.” 

The first verse came to an end as we spoke. The 
true-hearted soldier burst forth on the second. 

“ ‘ You’re out,’ says Dick, ‘ Not I,’ says Nick, 

‘ ’Tvvas the fiddler play’d it wrong,’ 

‘ ’Tis true,’ says Hugh, and so says Sue, 

And so says ev’ry one ; 

The fiddler then began 
To play the tune again, 

And ev’ry girl did trip it, trip it, 

Trip it to the men, 

And ev’ry girl did trip it, trip it, 

Trip it to the men.” 

I saw his head bobbing up and down above ^ 

419 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


hushes as he marched along in time with the song. 
Straight on, looking to neither right nor left, he came. 
His face was stern as ever, the bushy brows and, bris- 
tling mustaches trying bravely to meet as he tossed 
his head at every second word. As he finished the 
last line he stepped from the path. 

“ ’Od’s life ! ” I heard him gasp, and his face 
flushed like a maiden’s. 

We held our heads bent forward, and watched him 
stealthily. He pressed his sword close to his side, 
turned noiselessly and tiptoed back again the way he 
had come, his face turned over his shoulder, and the 
honest features softening until they glowed with 
happiness. As he reached the path he paused, slowly 
uncovered his head and raised his face to Heaven. 
I could see his lips moving — yes, and I read the 
words. “ God bless them,” he said from his great 
watrm heart. Then he glanced back at us again, 
smiled broadly, shook his head knowingly, as though 
to say : “ Ah ! I told you so,” and crept up the path, 
congratulating himself on his escaping unseen. 

“ Hear old Toby ! We have his blessing. Oh, oh 
how I love the vdiole, great world to-day, dear ! ” 
Tears of happiness, which can flow from a great 
heart only, were standing in her eyes. “ And I love 
all and see beauty in all because you have filled my 
heart with goodness until it overflows. . . . How, 
you will not go to London ? ” 

“ Here among the blossoms and the trees, sweet- 

420 


Mark Everard 


* 


* 


heart, the sand of our life has started on its golden 
course; and here let us count each sparkling grain 
that falls, shielding the glass within the sacred walls 
of this true paradise, that the storms that sometimes 
rage without may not hasten the flight of this fairies’ 
dream.” 

Her head was upon my breast, and my hand 
caressed the beauteous waves of hair. But now as I 
ceased to speak she looked up and, putting her little 
hand on each of my cheeks, studied my face with eyes 
of love. She shook her head slowly from side to side, 
her lips smiling and her eyes still tearful. 

“ Was ever woman blessed with the love of so noble 
a gentleman before ? ” 

“ Darling ! — Sweetheart ! — Angel ! ” I whispered. 

“ Listen!” 

From far up the path, near the house, Toby’s 
voice rolled out again. Every word sprang from a 
happy heart. But the voice came fainter as the song 
progressed. 

“ Then after an hour they went to a bow’r, 

And play’d for ale and cakes, 
j And kisses too, — until they were due, 

The lasses held the stakes. 

The girls did then begin 
To quarrel with the men, 

And bade them take their kisses back, 

And give them their own again ; 

And bade them kisses 

And them again.” 

The gruff old voice died out in the distance. 

421 














































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